


Twelve Days of Christmas

by JustAnotherUnderstudy



Series: This Should Totally Be A Thing [32]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Awkward Romance, Break Up, Camping, Caretaking, Christmas, Christmas Romance, Christmas Smut, Coma, Costumes, F/M, Funny, Heavy Angst, Making Up, Muses, Older Woman/Younger Man, On the Run, Rain, Regret, Reunions, Short Stories, That tag probably isn't as innocent as I think it is, Tropes, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherUnderstudy/pseuds/JustAnotherUnderstudy
Summary: Twelve Happy Christmas stories. First story posted on Christmas, then one a day (hopefully) for 12 days total. Enjoy.





	1. On the First Day of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these stories are from other, longer stories I’ve either attempted to write or have pattering around in my head. Others are just little one shots.
> 
> This first story is from one I have been attempting to write for about a year. Only bits and pieces of it have come together but this was one of the first pieces.
> 
> It takes place about a year after Quantum and, as I always try to do, radically changes Skyfall. But there are no spoilers for either.

Olivia hoped she hadn’t appeared too much on edge this evening. If she did, she hoped James would put it down to Christmas gift nerves.

They finished washing up the dinner dishes and would now return to the living room where they’d sit by the tree and exchange gifts. But there was one thing she wanted to do first.

It had been a trying few years for both she and James, but they had forged an unexpected friendship as a result. Olivia had begun to expect it was moving to something more. Tonight she would show James she was ready for such a change.

She followed behind him then called for him to stop just as he began to cross the threshold into the living room. 

“You’ve been walking under that mistletoe all night,” Olivia pointed above James’ head. “It’s high time someone did something about it.”

She tugged at his tie and reached up to the back of his neck to pull him down to her then she began to kiss him. It took her mere seconds to register that he was not responding at all and was, in fact, frozen in position, his lips stiff and still against her own.

A flush of embarrassment shot through her. How could she have read this so wrong?

She released him and took a step back.

”I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “I’ve misread everything.”

Of course, she had. Why would a young, handsome man like James want a wrinkled old woman like herself?

”You want me to kiss you?” he asked, perplexed.

“Well, I, um, I just thought that things...” 

She knew her face must be completely red by now. Her ears were burning and she had the desire to flee, except this was her flat so there was nowhere to go.

”You...want me...to kiss you?” he asked again, slowly.

Maybe he’d have a good laugh over this later, she thought as she tried to come up with a way to save face.

She turned away as she repeated her lame excuse.

”I was wrong,” she mumbled, her voice a far higher pitch that usual. “I thought I’d seen something...”

James interrupted again with the same words, only now his voice was low, almost a growl.

”You want me to kiss you.” 

He was mocking her and she was not going to stand for that on top of the embarrassment. She turned to tell him so and suddenly found herself in his arms, his lips descended onto hers quickly and his kiss was like fire.

Olivia instantly gave herself over to it and relaxed into him as his arms went around her to pull her more tightly against his body.

His hands skimmed down to her backside and he picked her up and pressed her against the wall behind her. She moaned as she registered his arousal. As fantasy fulfillments went, this certainly was above and beyond anything she'd imagined.

James finally pulled his lips from hers, allowing them to catch their breath, but his lips didn’t stray far as he kissed along her cheek to her ear.

”I love you,” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

Olivia stiffened involuntarily in his arms. She hadn’t expected him to say those words so soon.

As she had earlier, James registered almost immediately that she was not having the reaction he’d thought she’d have.

He didn’t completely let her go, but he did set her down. He buried his face in her neck and took two deep breaths before he spoke.

”That’s alright,” he said, his cheek pressed to hers and his hand gently caressing the other.

”You don’t have to feel the same,” he said quietly. 

He pressed soft kisses to her face and neck, and Olivia felt the shift in his feelings. 

“Whatever it is you need from me,” he whispered. “Whatever you want.”

Olivia was overwhelmed as she began to understand what he was saying. She responded when he kissed her but her lightheaded feeling had little to do with the kiss and mostly to do with his words.

”James, stop,” she pushed him away enough to see his face.

”What are you trying to say?” she asked.

He smiled at her but there was a sadness etched into his features.

”It’s alright,” he said, as he caressed her face and looked almost everywhere except into her eyes. “It’s OK, I understand. You have needs and I want to meet them. I would do anything for you.”

He pressed his lips to hers again and Olivia kissed him back for a moment, then she pushed him away again.

”Are you telling me that you are willing to be what? My plaything?”

After what felt like minutes but was mere heartbeats, James looked into her eyes. Gone was the look she’d seen so often lately, the one that had lead her to be this bold. In its place was the look he always had at work, the James he showed everyone, cold, calculating, the blunt instrument she'd accused him of being what seemed a lifetime ago.

”I will do whatever you need ma’am, be whatever you need.”

Olivia felt her reaction somewhere between shock and horror. That he loved her so deeply was unexpected, that he would sacrifice that for her was terrifying.

”I need you to be who you are,” she said. “I need you to be who you’ve always been. The man I fell in love with.”

James blinked as if coming out of a trance. 

“What?”

He looked as if he thought he’d heard her wrong.

“I love you, too, James,” she told him. “I just didn’t expect the words from you so quickly.”

”Quickly?”

He chuckled quietly.

“It’s taken me forever to tell you.”

Olivia shook her head to indicate her confusion.

”I have loved you for so long,” he said. “Many years.”

He smiled at her, then leaned in to kiss her. The heat behind it threatened to engulf her. She hadn’t expected this tonight. A kiss, yes, perhaps a conversation about where they would go from here.

But this was James and he had never been one to hesitate. It wasn’t her way, but it really was something she had grown to love about him.

He was still kissing her but he began to guide her into the living room. When he stopped in front of the tree, which was set next to the fireplace, he pulled back to look at her. In his eyes she saw a plea which he seemed afraid to give voice to. She understood, so she simply nodded.

Slowly, between kisses, they began to undress each other. She guided James to lay down with her. They made love slowly and with great passion. Olivia marveled at the intensity of her feelings. The feelings they were able to draw out of each other were deeper than she’d realized.

Later, as she lay pressed against him, her head resting on his chest, his hand carding through her hair, Olivia thought of how fast things had changed between them, but maybe it wasn’t fast at all. James had loved her for years, and maybe she’d loved him longer than she should as well.

She felt her eyes begin to droop, and reached up to briefly stroke his cheek.

”Happy Christmas, James,” she said.

He took her hand and pressed his lips against it.

”It is, Olivia,” he said. “A very happy Christmas.”


	2. On the Second Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia and James spend Christmas in virtual seclusion, just not for the reason either would have wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a stand alone one-shot. One of those stories where the muse promises that it will be short and sweet, then won't go away.

If there was one thing James hated it was feeling as if things were not in his control. It was something he was sure he shared with the woman sitting across from him at the small wooden table.

M did not look pleased in the slightest. Though he couldn’t fault her. Who wanted to be stuck in a safe house for Christmas?

James fingered the small velvet box in his coat pocket. Tonight was supposed to have ended quite differently. He supposed it was a good thing he’d convinced her to let him be her bodyguard and give the usual ones a break for the holiday. He’d done it for selfish reasons, but right now he was certain there’d have been a different ending to the attack if he hadn’t been at the flat.

”I suppose we ought to eat something,” she sighed.

They’d planned a traditional dinner, turkey, kilted sausages, pudding, and even trifle. If James hadn’t been there to drag M out of the kitchen to stand under the mistletoe he’d just placed over the bedroom door...

”I don’t think I ever want you near an oven again,” he said, not even half joking.

Olivia took a shaky breath.

”How about sandwiches, then?” she asked stiffly.

James nodded then joined her to help look through the kitchen to see what was available. James found the bread and Olivia found some meat and mustard in the refrigerator. James was pouring some juice when he glanced over and saw Olivia’s hands were shaking as she tried to put together the sandwiches.

He carefully placed his hands on hers. She jerked away from him.

”I’m fine,” she bit out at him.

She wanted a fight, apparently, and as much as James wanted to give it to her, he couldn’t now.

”Olivia, please, I can’t fight with you.”

 “I’m not trying to start a fight, I’m fine.”

”Olivia, you were just nearly blown up in your own flat.”

James felt himself beginning to tense. 

“But I wasn’t and I’m fine.”

”Your hands were shaking.”

”I’m bloody hungry,” she snapped.

”Don’t give me that bullshit,” he retorted, forgetting his desire not to fight with her the more she fought back against him.

”What, so you can read minds? That will be a useful trait in the field.”

She turned back to the sandwiches.

 “I may not be able to read minds but I can read you.”

She stilled for a moment and James knew he’d crossed a line but he wasn’t sure which one.

”Really?” She practically growled. “You think you know me that well?”

James was positive he did. For three years, ever since they’d gone up against Quantum, James had made it his business to learn how to read her as well as she did him. At first it was simply a matter of wanting to be one step ahead of her for a change, but the more he learned, the more it changed, until one day he realized he wanted to know her for better reasons.

"I know you cannot be unaffected by what happened," he said, his voice growing louder to match his growing ire.

"Then you do not know me at all," she said. "I deal with sort of thing on a regular basis and I do not need you coddling me."

"A regular basis?" He was incredulous. How had he not known? Surely he'd have been briefed by now.

"I send you out into the field and it can be days before we hear anything," she said. "Many times we don't even know if you are alive or not."

She had managed to make the sandwiches in the midst of their argument and she now took a bite of hers.

"What the hell does that have to do with you?" he asked, grabbing the plate with his sandwich on it and setting it none too gently on the table.

"Don't take it out on the dinnerware," Olivia bit out at him.

"Answer my damn question," he snapped back.

She took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height. It shouldn't be intimidating, she was so small, but when she got like this James felt barely a meter high so it had the effect she was always going for.

"I have never, NEVER told you that you needed to stay out of the field over something like that," she yelled. "I never comment, I never hold you back."

"Olivia, I am not trying to..." he started, but she didn't give a chance to finish.

"What the hell do you mean by telling me you aren't going to allow me near an oven again, then?" she snapped. "You are trying to control me and I. Will. Not. Be. Controlled. Not by you, not by anyone, not for any reason."

She took her sandwich and stomped out of the room. James listened as she slammed the bedroom door and turned the lock over. He stood stock still as he turned the situation around in his head. 

It wasn't the first time he'd considered how she might feel when he was on an assignment and had gone missing or been hurt. It was why he'd been so much more careful since they'd become involved. Though, careful was a matter of opinion, he supposed. He took care to think through his actions, but he still probably pursued things more recklessly than she would like. But that was his job.

He left the kitchen and knocked on the bedroom door.

"Olivia, I can't very well argue with you through a closed door," he said. "At least not without the guards outside hearing us."

After a few seconds the lock clicked over. He had thought that would convince her. Their relationship was not an open one, though Tanner was well aware. It had been too difficult to keep it from him. She wouldn't want the guards to know, however.

When he pushed open the door, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to him. At least she still trusted him, he mused.

"It's not really fair for you to compare what I have to do for work with what happened to you," he said.

He saw her shoulders stiffen and knew immediately that was the wrong approach, at least if he wanted to diffuse the argument.

"How can it possibly not be?" she asked, her anger obvious both in her tone and how she held herself.

"I don't have any choice," he said.

"Oh, really," she said, derisively. "I was unaware that you were kept here against your will."

James rolled his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "You know that's not what I meant."

"You have a choice in what you do, James," she said. "You can leave anytime you want. Retire, whatever you want to do. No one is forcing you to do your job."

James scrambled for another defense.

"You are not supposed to be in the line of fire, Olivia," he said. "You are supposed to be safe."

She turned on him so fast he hardly had the time to think that this, too, had been the wrong approach.

"How dare you," she spat. "How dare you insinuate that I should somehow be held apart from what my top people must do.

"I am fully aware of what the dangers of this job entail and it is not always safe," she said. "This is not the first time someone has made a swing for me and it won't be the last."

James knew the truth of her words. He had accepted that at the beginning of their relationship. It hadn't been that long since Mitchell had tried to kill her and Quantum's people in their government had made veiled threats toward her. But now it had been long enough that James had been lulled into the misconception that she would remain safe, that she would always be here for him to come home to.

The argument became nothing more than a staring match. James knew he wouldn't last long, he never did under that gaze. Less than a minute later he averted his eyes and sighed in defeat.

They stood in the room, neither moving toward the other, for several minutes before Olivia finally broke the silence.

"James, neither of us can afford to hold the view that the other will outlive us," she said, her voice far softer now.

"I am far older than you," she started, but James immediately interrupted.

"I am fully aware of your age, ma'am," he snapped. 

It had been a long time since she'd brought that up in conversation, but he knew where she was leading them and he didn't want to think about it. Not this close to an attempt on her life.

When she spoke again, her tone was defensive.

"You are going to have to deal with that fact," she said. "You told me you understood."

"I told you that two years ago," he said.

He looked up at her in time to see her look of surprise.

She shook her head.

"James, you know all this, we discussed all this, nothing has changed since then," she said.

He felt his shoulders sag in defeat and turned to sit down on the edge of the bed.

"But now I'm more in love with you," he said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

He couldn't say the words, it was too much to admit the reality of a future without her.

She came and sat beside him. 

"We can't afford this sentimentality," she said.

"I know," he told her. 

They sat in silence for several minutes. James wasn't sure what to say now. He hoped he hadn't pushed things too far. 

Olivia made the first move, taking his hand in hers and interlacing their fingers. 

"Each time I send you out, I know there is a high probability you will not return," she said. "But it's my job to send you, and it's your job to go.

"I cannot send you out if I know your mind is not on the task," she continued. "If I think for one moment you are so compromised by your concern about me, I cannot use you."

They sat in silence as James mulled over her words. He knew all this, of course. But, until tonight, he hadn't really thought of things that way. He was always able to compartmentalize work and their relationship. 

"It's just too fresh, right now," he explained. "Just give me a few days, let me stay with you as your guard and I'm sure you'll find a way to bring me back 'round."

He looked down at her and wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Olivia just rolled her eyes at him.

"Really, Bond, is that all it will take for you?" she asked.

James wanted to say that it wasn't. He wanted to pull the ring out of his pocket and get down on one knee. But after this argument, he was no longer sure it was such a good idea. 

Olivia, however, reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box. She held it up to him with a smirk on her face.

"Is there nothing I can hide from you?" he bemoaned.

She chuckled.

"Probably not."

He looked at her and tried to gauge her possible response, but her face was set as if she had to hide even that from him. It wasn't unusual, though. So he didn't think it was a rebuff. Still, he wished she'd at least give him a hint.

Taking the box from her, he opened it to reveal a square ruby in a vintage setting. He'd opted for platinum rather than gold.

"The ruby is because it reminds me of fire, of which your soul seems made," he explained. "The platinum is because of your strength."

He hoped she didn't find it too romantic. That really wasn't her way. She was far more practical.

She looked at the ring, then back at him and waited.

"Olivia," James began. 

He took a breath, suddenly very nervous. Less than four hours ago he'd been about to ask this question when all hell had broken loose. If he hadn't pulled her out of the kitchen, he would never have had this chance. That thought made whether or not he should ask a moot point.

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She smiled and reached up to cup his face in her hands.

"It would have to be a secret," she said.

He nodded. He had known that from before he began to entertain the idea of marriage.

"It couldn't even be on the public record," she said. "It would show up in the MI6 files and we could both lose our jobs."

"I know," he said. "But it would still be what I want."

She studied him for a moment before she replied.

"Then yes, James, I'll marry you."


	3. On the Third Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Immediately following the events at Skyfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is neither an argument for nor against euthanasia. It is simply a coma trope.

It had been a month since M was removed from any sort of life support system save the tube that was feeding her. The doctors were becoming less sure that she would inevitably wake.

"The longer she doesn't..."

Her daughter was practical, like her. She had demanded that the tube be removed after a week. That had been three weeks ago. Her son was of the more romantic sort and argued that if she was going to die she'd have done it by now. The two had stopped visiting her together two weeks ago.

James hardly left her side.

He'd convinced Mallory, the acting head of MI6, that he could be M's bodyguard in hospital in Scotland. When she'd stabilized enough to transport back to London and MI6's temporary headquarters, he stayed on as her near constant bodyguard. He slept in the barracks where he'd stayed when he was testing. His phone was always on and the night guard had orders to call him if even the smallest change occurred.

The phone never rang.

On Christmas Eve, James had varied his routine and left the compound. He came back four hours later with a duffel bag of which only the guard who checked it knew the contents. The look James gave him kept his lips sealed.

Today was Christmas and James rose early, shaved meticulously, took a long, hot shower, dressed in the suit he'd ordered from his tailor and picked up the previous day. He looked impeccable. He thought she might be pleased that he'd finally shaved the whiskers he'd allowed since Skyfall. She did hate a beard.

The guard outside her room took in his appearance with surprise.

"Going out for the holiday, Bond?" he asked.

Bond only stared at him.

"Right," the man demurred. "Well, nothing new to report. Have a Happy Christmas."

James pushed open the door and quietly entered the room. The only sound was her steady breaths and the occasional whirring of the pumps that administered her feedings and her medication.

Out of the duffel bag, James pulled a small, artificial tree. He set it on the table next to her bed, then pulled out a bag of tiny ornaments to hang on it. The lights were already attached to the tree and they twinkled when he plugged the cord into the wall.

"Happy Christmas, M."

He gave her a half-hearted smile then sat down in his chair.

"I think your family will be by today," he said. "Mallory got clearance for your grandchildren as well."

James tried not to think about how this entire day was simply going to be the act of saying goodbye to her. 

As he sat at her bedside in Scotland, he'd thought he wanted her to live for the sole reason of vindicating his failure at Skyfall. But as the weeks passed and he still found himself unable to leave her side, he was forced to acknowledge that it was something more.

It was the same something more that had instigated his return after her offices were blown up. It was the same something more that had him running as if for his own life through the streets of London when he realized Silva was going after her following his escape. It was the same something more that made him grab her hand and steal her away from the mayhem of the scene and drive her to somewhere he had thought she'd be safe.

James leaned forward and reached across the guard rail to take her hand in his. It was still warm, but it never responded to touch. He could imagine if she had her senses she'd slap him for taking such liberties. She'd never laid a hand on him, but it would be a welcome pain in comparison to this.

He glanced at the clock. It was seven. He wasn't sure when the family was due, but he assumed it would be after nine. Once they were here, he would move to the back and watch them as they said their last words to her.

Taking further liberty, James brought her hand to his lips.

"What will I do if they take you away, M?" he asked quietly. "Who will keep me in check? I don't think Mallory's up to the task. He's let me get away with too much already. You would never tolerate me idly sitting by your side."

James closed his eyes in an effort to quell his growing anguish. He was dangerously close to taking her into his arms and crying over her as he had that night he'd thought he lost her. It wouldn't due to have someone see that. People would talk and it wouldn't be about him. Mallory had already insinuated enough.

The minutes passed as James held her hand and watched her sleep. He lost himself in the quiet sounds of the room. He imagined himself taking her away to give her more time. If she could make it through December, maybe things would turn around.

As those thoughts turned over in his head, he was reminded of a sad Christmas song he'd heard years ago and he concentrated on trying to recall the words.

"If we make it through December," he mumbled to himself. "Everything's gonna be alright."

He paused a moment, straining to remember. His mind actively pursued it for no other reason than to give it something else to consider.

"It's the coldest time of winter," he continued. "Something about warmth and California."

In a few minutes, it started to come back to him. And, as it probably didn't matter because he was alone with her, and she was not awake, he began to softly sing to her.

"If we make it through December,  
Everything's gonna be alright, I know.  
It's the coldest part of winter  
I shiver when I see the snow.  
If we make it through December  
Got plans to be somewhere warmer come summertime.  
Maybe even California.  
If we make it through December  
We'll be fine." *

His throat constricted around the final words.

"You're in love with her," a woman's voice behind him startled him and he jumped to his feet.

He'd recognized the voice as Olivia's daughter, Amelia, so he didn't reach for his weapon.

"Mrs. Albright," he said, straightening his coat and trying to maintain his normally calm demeanor.

"You were lost in the moment, Mr. Bond," she said softly.

He looked at her and tried to muster a defense, but could find none. In her eyes he could see she knew the truth.

"Would you tell her if she woke?" Amelia asked.

James scoffed at that.

"She'll never get the chance," he said. "You'll have the feeding tube removed tonight."

Amelia nodded.

"So why do you ask?" he wondered aloud.

Amelie shrugged.

"It's the first opportunity to do so, as you usually seem very defensive around me," she explained. "I know part of that is my stance on the feeding tube, but I think the other is that I am far too much like her."

James allowed himself a small smile

"You are indeed very much like her," he said.

Amelia hung her coat and scarf over a second chair that was at the end of Olivia's bed.

 

"How long have you been in love with her?" she asked.

James shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied. "Not long. Maybe, forever?"

Amelia smiled at him in a way he'd never seen M smile. He supposed that was because Amelia had not seen the terrible things M had seen, nor done the terrible things M had done.

"She has that effect on people, doesn't she?" she said.

James supposed she did.

"So, would you tell her?" Amelia turned the conversation back to her original question. "If you had the opportunity, would you tell my mother you love her?"

James shook his head. 

"I couldn't," he said. "It would ruin everything."

Amelia sat down and James felt the room shrink around them. He didn't want to discuss this, but he didn't want to leave Olivia's side, either. So he finally sat down as well.

They were silent as Amelia waited for a better excuse.

"It really wouldn't matter," he explained. "I doubt she feels the same for me."

"How would you know if you didn't ask?" 

James tried not to snap at Amelia, he knew this must be difficult on her. He knew she couldn't be strong all the time. He'd seen M at her weakest and it had unnerved him. He certainly didn't want to push Amelia there. Instead, he remained silent, and stared at his hands.

"My children arrived last night," Amelia interrupted the silence. "They'll be here by ten. Ronald and his family will come in after that. They don't want too many people in the room. Probably a fire hazard."

Her voice trailed off and when James looked at her he found her looking at M in a brooding way.

"I never really knew her," Amelia said.

"I suppose it was difficult with her job," he replied, not really sure why she was sharing this with him.

Amelia shook her head.

"No, she's just a terribly private person," she explained. "Our father was the gregarious one, the one who planned the parties and mingled with the guests. Mother was never like that."

She stood and walked to the other side of M's bed before continuing.

"She did love her job, though," she continued. "I knew that. Father only told us that she took care of people. I knew she wasn't a doctor or a nurse, so I didn't understand until I was older. Even then, I didn't know the true extent of it."

She turned back to James.

"She took care of all of us, I imagine," he replied. 

James stilled and closed his eyes as he realized he had just used the past tense to speak of M. He didn't want to think about her that way. He stood in frustration and paced behind the chair, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

He felt Amelia's watching him. God, she was so much like M. He should definitely stay as far away from her as possible after this was all over, he thought. He'd had a thing for married women ever since he met M, but M would never forgive him even an attempt at seducing her daughter. And if M wasn't going to be here to reign him in, he was going to have to force himself to live as if she was.

Finally, he felt the best way to put an end to all this conversation was just to tell Amelia what he knew she wanted to hear: the truth.

"I think I loved her from the moment I met her," he said. "If such a thing is possible."

He stopped his pacing and stared at one of the generic framed pictures on the wall, placed there to make the underground room seem more homey.

"I've always been attracted to strong women," he continued. "My mother was very resilient, my father had adored her and had told me it was a good quality in a woman.

"But, in this business," he shrugged. 

"She is intelligent, too," he turned back to Amelia now. "That was a draw. I get a bit tired of the women who either are, or try to seem, stupid. I mean, they're OK for one night, but I have no idea how anyone can tolerate a stupid person, man or woman."

Amelia smiled and laughed.

"Well, you have that in common with my mother," she said. "She couldn't abide by stupidity."

"No," James replied. "And I'm sure she must have thought me incredibly stupid at times."

Amelia raised a brow to indicate she wanted to hear about that, but James could only shake his head at her.

"Top secret," he claimed.

"Of course," she answered, but he felt she could read through his bullshit nearly as well as her mother.

He sighed and looked at the ceiling for a moment before turning back to her.

"I love her and I have no idea how I will go on when she's gone," James said.

The two had been so involved in their conversation and in James' full confession, that they hadn't noticed the change in the woman between them. They hadn't noticed her blue eyes beginning to open.

"M," he started, then he stopped. He didn't want to call her by her title today. "Olivia has always been everything I've ever wanted in a woman."

He chuckled at a memory.

"I used to curse my bad luck for being born too late for her to even cast a second glance at me," he said.

"James?" M's voice was rough from disuse, but even without the harshness of it, Amelia and James would have nearly jumped out of their skin.

"M?"

"Mom?"

"Get the doctor," James ordered Amelia.

She hurried from the room to find one of the doctors and James gripped the side rail in an attempt to keep from taking M's hand in his again.

"Why didn't you just use the call button?" M chided, gruffly. "And what the hell am I doing in hospital anyway?"

James chuckled.

"Well, at least we know nothing important was affected," he commented.

"What do you know about what is or isn't important?" she asked. "And why haven't you answered my question?"

The doctor came in, followed by Amelia, and interrupted their discussion.

James was forced into a corner and the curtain was drawn as the doctor examined M.

The next two hours was a buzz of activity. M's family visited, but with a good ending instead of what was expected. Amelia had a tearful discussion with her mother, then her brother, and everything looked like it was mended. M rebuked Ronald, albeit gently, for not allowing Amelia to pull the feeding tube earlier, and then turned on Amelia and equally chastised her for being so stubborn. James thought that rather ironic, but remained silent in his seat.

Finally, the family left for lunch. The room was silent again and James thought he might just sit in the shadows until M fell asleep.

"You've been sitting there for over two hours, Bond," M said, surprising him. "You must at least need to stretch your legs."

He stood and walked back to her bed.

"It's not good for you to be spending all this time here," she reprimanded him, as he had suspected she would when she figured it out.

"I'm your bodyguard, ma'am," he informed her.

"You are that, aren't you?" she said tenderly, though James wasn't entirely sure of her meaning. 

It was like her last words to him in the chapel, "At least I got one thing right." But he'd failed her, so the words made no sense.

"Sit," she commanded and James obeyed, but slowly.

M rolled her eyes.

"You did that intentionally," she said.

"I want to make sure you get back into shape quickly, ma'am," he said. "I can't have you going all soft on me just because you've been in hospital."

"What about you?" she asked.

"What about me?" he retorted.

"Have you gone soft now that I've been in hospital and, from what I've been told this evening, very near to death at least twice now?"

"I'm sure I have not," he replied.

"Let me see if I recall correctly, "I love her. Olivia is what I've always wanted in a woman and I curse my bad luck for being born too late to be with her.""

James turned a neutral face to her.

"That is about right?" she asked.

James nodded hesitantly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I don't have much time left," she said. "I'm not a young woman and it will not be long before old age is my greatest enemy."

"Your age is irrelevant to how I feel about you," he countered.

"Good god, do I have to spell everything out for you?" she grumbled. "That means you are supposed to stop wasting time and kiss me already."

James felt his mouth open slightly. Then he smiled and stood to draw near to her. He took her hand and kissed each finger, then her palm. She gave him a bemused look when he finally leaned in to press his lips against hers.

"Am I to anticipate more of that after I'm released or is this only for while I'm interred?" she asked.

"Oh, ma'am, I plan on much more and a whole lot of other things as well," he replied before he kissed her again, this time deeply.

James pulled away and lowered the side rail. He lifted M gently and moved her to the opposite side of the bed. She didn't protest any of it so he kicked his shoes off and crawled in next to her. She reached down and pulled the covers over him and he wrapped his arms around her.

"James," she said, yawning. "I love you, too."

He held her a little tighter in response and they drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"If We Make It through December" by Merle Haggard. The lyrics are different because James is doing it from memory, which is imperfect.


	4. On the Fourth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Olivia. In a tent. In the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Skyfall partial rewrite. I like to do that. This one places the events at the end of the film at Christmas because, well, this is a Christmas themed series. :) To give a brief timeline, Silva escapes on the 23rd, James and Olivia arrive at Skyfall on the 24th, then decide to go into hiding while MI6 deals with Silva (which is really what should have happened anyway) so, Christmas. :)
> 
> Also, this story is a lot shorter than the others...thank goodness. It tried to get longer, but I told the two of them to deal with it quickly because, really, they just will not stop. The next story is two chapters...or eight movies. ;) 
> 
> Also, also, I'm in kind of a funk after a really bad day so the editing on this thing sucks. Sorry. :/

Olivia had awoke on Christmas morning to find James wrapped around her from behind. 

“You were shivering,” was his explanation.

He continued to hold her as she forced him to get some sleep and his arm was still firmly around her now. She couldn’t complain. It really was very cold. The rain had been falling steadily so it had obviously remained above freezing, but only just. 

James felt the weather would block any ability Silva had to detect heat here so they ran a small tent heater, but only sparingly because it was on a battery and they weren’t entirely sure how long they’d be forced to remain here.

She had been laying in the same position for far too long and really needed to change so she attempted to move James' arm from her, but he only held her more closely.

"M," he whispered in his sleep.

If she didn't know better, she'd say it sounded needy. That was ridiculous, regardless how she often wished it was true.

She finally turned her body over by maneuvering within his embrace. Then she pressed herself against his chest and adjusted the double sleeping bag up around their shoulders.

Before long, James' hand was caressing her back. She was about to poke him in the side, afraid he was dreaming about one of his lovers, when he again whispered. Only this time he used her real name.

After a moment of hesitation, she did poke him to wake him.

He grumbled incoherently before coming to his senses.

"You know, you were the one who forced me to sleep," he said once he realized there was no emergency that caused her to wake him. "I was having the best dream and you interrupted."

He smirked at her, but Olivia saw something else in his eyes that made her decide to say something.

"Yes, about a woman," she said.

He paled.

"Oh, god," he sounded anguished. "Did I do something? I'm sorry."

Olivia's eyes widened in surprise. She had not expected him to react that way. She expected the usual casualness toward sex that she had heard from him in the field. He didn't seem the type that would worry if he had pushed too far.

"No, James," she assured him. "You just said her name, that's all."

She wasn't convinced that James had indeed been dreaming of her, but his reaction removed all doubt.

He seemed to shrink away from her as he fumbled for an excuse.

"Oh, James, don't be ridiculous," she tried to comfort him.

He looked ready to be sick, or to possibly die from embarrassment.

"We can't control our dreams," she reminded him.

That should be sufficient. He would know she understood he was only dreaming and didn't want anything of the sort from her.

He was giving her a strange look. Olivia thought she knew all of his ways, but she must have been wrong. She hadn't expected him to be ashamed that he might have touched her inappropriately, maybe something had changed.

"I enjoy those dreams quite a lot," he said.

Olivia rolled her eyes. Nevermind, she thought. Typical James, getting ready to flirt his way through this.

"I'm serious, M," he said.

"James, you can't be."

He paused a moment and his hand moved from her back to touch her face gently. He closed his eyes as if he wanted to lose himself in the feel of her skin against his hand.

"I nearly lost you," he said. "Twice now. It's made me think."

"You must have a fever," she retorted. 

How absurd. He couldn't possibly want that with her.

"If your reaction to my presence in your flat had been less caustic, I would have told you then," he explained. "But I went on the defensive."

"Are you going through alcohol withdrawals?" she peered suspiciously at him.

He gave her a small smile, a real one. She had always thought it odd how, more than anyone she knew, his smile seemed so out of place. His life, like hers, had been difficult before he'd even been tapped by MI6.

She reached up to touch his hand as it caressed her cheek.

He looked disappointed when she stilled the movement. She studied his face for a moment the slowly moved his hand to her lips and gently kissed his palm.

James surprised her again when his eyes opened wide in astonishment. For a moment, Olivia felt as if her world had tilted on a new axis. Something had happened to James, something had made him open to this.

He had almost lost her twice, he'd said. Perhaps that was enough to explain it.

"M, I," he closed his eyes and stopped. 

Olivia waited, her anticipation more than she expected it to be.

"I just," he started, but stopped again.

Then he opened his eyes and looked at her with such conviction that Olivia knew exactly what James wanted, what she had wanted herself but never allowed herself to hope.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

She nodded and he leaned in closer to her and brushed his lips gently against hers. As far as a kiss from James went, she had expected something different. But then he nuzzled his face against her neck and his embrace tightened around her.

"I have wanted that for so long," he said. 

His voice was rough with desire.

"When we get out of this," he continued, now pressing lingering kisses to her neck and finding that spot that had been too long neglected. A hunger she hadn't known is just as long heated her body, making her clothes feel far too confining.

He pulled away to look at her face and for the first time Olivia saw true contentment on his face.

"You like that?" he asked. It was not the arrogant way she'd expected.

He pulled her back into his embrace, tucking her head under his chin.

"When we get out of this," he resumed. "Let's go somewhere warm, where we can talk this out properly."

"Talk?" Olivia scoffed, feeling slightly incredulous.

James chuckled.

"And other things," he assured her.

"Like this."

He shifted his body and brought his lips to that same spot as earlier and Olivia knew that if he continued with that, they wouldn't need the tent heater, nor the sleeping bag, nor anything else that, at present, felt like too much between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I gave them a pleasant enough ending that they shouldn't be too mad at me. Seriously, these two justs do not want their stories to end. ;)


	5. On the Fifth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James has a falling out, and a shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story got so long I made it into two chapters. Continued tomorrow.

James chuckled at the size of suitcase laid out on the bed in anticipation of a mere weekend away.

“Really, Olivia, it’s only two days and one night,” James said. “I doubt you’ll need half your closet.”

She stilled in the middle of folding her sweater then set it carefully inside the case.

“What did you say?”

James was taken aback by her response.

“I merely suggested you don’t need that many clothes,” he said, defensively.

“No, you called me ‘Olivia,’” Madeleine corrected.

James wasn’t quick enough mentally to keep a brief reaction from showing on his face. But he decided playing dumb might help avoid a conversation he was loathe to have.

“Well, it was just an innocent mistake,” he said.

Madeleine didn’t look as if his explanation had persuaded her in the least.

“I’m not having an affair if that’s what you’re implying,” he said.

“I know,” she sighed quietly.

They stared silently at each other as James wished for a way to take that one word back.

“You’re not having an affair,” Madeleine repeated. “But you are in love with someone else.”

James closed his eyes so he could get his bearings. He’d never told anyone, save _her_. He didn’t want to tell Madeleine at all.

“She’s dead,” he finally replied coldly.

He hoped that would get Madeleine to see there was no reason to be worried that he’d misspoke.

“Physically, perhaps,” Madeleine said. “But she’s still a part of you.”

That was an odd thing for Madeleine to say. She was usually more clinical, not so esoteric.

“What happened?” she asked.

James did not want to have this conversation. The look Madeleine was giving him told him that she would not be satisfied unless she heard. He was angry that she even felt it her right.

“The usual,” James said flatly. “I got her killed.”

James had to admit he was impressed with how little Madeleine reacted to his cold answer.

“But I lived,” she replied.

“What?”

“You love her,” Madeleine said. “And she died, like all the others you loved. But I lived.”

“I have no idea what that means, Madeleine,” he said with an intentional air of exasperation.

“I always knew there was someone, but I thought it was Vesper or Em,” she continued.

“She was M,” James interrupted.

“I never suspected,” Madeleine said. “Em is not a usual nickname for Olivia.”

“M was her title, not her name,” James said.

He was tired of this already and returned to his own bag to shove his clothes inside.

“M?” she asked, surprised. “Your boss?”

James nodded.

“But she’s.”

James turned to her angrily and cut her off.

“Don’t you dare say ‘old,’” he spat. “Because you and I have nearly the same age difference.”

“Yes, but.”

Again, he didn’t let her speak.

“I love her and I will not have you saying anything about her,” James continued, his voice rising. “You have no right to say anything at all about her, you never knew her.

Madeleine did not rise to his anger. Instead, she looked as if the conversation had deflated her.

”I think we should spend some time apart, ” she said and turned back to packing the suitcase.

”Why?” James asked, but really not caring. ”What will that change?”

”You need to think about what you really want, ” she replied.

”What I want? You're not making any sense, ” he said.

Madeleine sighed and turned back to him.

”James, this has been an issue for some time, ” she explained. ”Any time I try to discuss it with you, you brush it aside or try to cover it up with sex.”

“Haven’t heard you complain,” James snorted.

“See, that’s what I mean,” she said. “Now you’re trying to joke and the next step will be to try to get me into bed.”

Apparently he had a pattern going that he knew nothing about. Not that James was introspective in the least, his job made that act counterproductive.

Madeleine finished her packing then called for a cab.

When the cab arrived, James followed her out of the flat.

"Where are you going?" James asked disinterestedly.

"I'm going to stay with a friend," was all she said.

"I won't be here when you get back," he said, though it really wasn't a threat.

Madeleine gave him a sad look, then she was in the cab and gone.

James stood in the cold and stared down the street long after the cab had turned out of sight. He had the feeling that this was somehow a final goodbye, though neither had acknowledged it.

She had lived, was what Madeleine had said. Maybe she thought that was why he'd stayed with her. Maybe that was why he'd stayed with her. He really couldn't say because thinking about that would force him to think about Olivia. It was too close to Christmas to think about Olivia.

Instead, James went inside and proceeded to drink himself into oblivion. He hadn't done that in a long while. The previous Christmas, his first without Olivia, he'd had Madeleine to keep him distracted. He hadn't allowed himself to think of Olivia and how it was his first Christmas without her. 

Madeleine must have been a better elixir than alcohol, because James was through half a bottle of whiskey before he was nearly passed out on the bed and his thoughts and dreams began to meld together until he couldn't tell the one from the other.

Did he really recall the events of his last Christmas with Olivia correctly, or was it a dream? Was he dreaming that she was sitting beside him and taking her hand into his, or was that reality?

When he woke, and was sober enough to be sure, the ache inside his chest was greater than the one in his head and nearly pushed him back to finish the rest of the bottle.

He forced himself into the shower then, just to spite Madeleine, called M to see if he could discuss a training position MI6 had offered a few months prior. He'd turned it down because he knew Madeleine wouldn't want him involved in anything to do with his former business. M was glad to hear from him, telling him he had something important come up that James would be useful for. James replied that he could be at the offices in two hours.

Nodding to himself, he hung up the phone and returned to dressing. This was just what he needed. He never should have left. Drowning himself in work was the only remedy that had ever worked for him. He should have learned that lesson after Turkey.

James shined his shoes and pulled out his best suit. When he was slipping the tie around his neck he froze. He felt the ghost of arms around him that had nothing to do with Madeleine. A whisper of a voice as he turned, but she wasn't there.

It was just the fact that he was returning to MI6 today, he told himself. His mind was reminding him that Olivia had never wanted him to quit. Now, he was returning and she would have approved.

Taking a deep breath to stifle the sadness that threatened him, James finished with the tie.

The drive to the offices was daunting. It was two days before Christmas and the shoppers had invaded the streets, mixed with the normal commuters making it take far longer than it would on a usual business day.

When he finally arrived, Tanner came down to the lobby to accompany James through the halls of the new MI6. James was relieved that they were in a new building. There were no painful memories here, no reminders of his M or anything about her.

M had a new secretary. When James inquired after Moneypenny, Tanner explained that Eve had returned to the field. 

M would see him right away so there was no time for further questions.

"Bond," M said, standing and coming around his desk. "Good to see you."

They shook hands and M had him take a seat in front of his desk.

"The timing of your call couldn't have been better," M said. "As I said, I do in fact have an important assignment I could use you for."

They settled in and M asked him the question James didn't really want to answer.

"So, why now?" he asked. "Why call right before a holiday?"

James decided honesty was the best course.

"I had been tempted to take you up on the offer when you'd called, but Madeleine wouldn't have been very happy," he said.

"Has she changed her mind?"

James shook his head.

"Things with Madeleine aren't going to work out," he stated simply.

M studied James for a moment before proceeding.

"Well, I have something that's just come up," he said. "The agent assigned to it has been given a promotion so I need someone I can trust implicitly to replace her."

It was unheard of for an agent in a deep cover assignment to be pulled for a promotion, so that could mean only one thing.

"Bodyguard duty," James said, not pleased in the least.

"Now, before you take that attitude," M interrupted. "This is an assignment that I must use only a top agent for. I cannot assign just anyone capable of bodyguard duty. The person involved is of the highest importance to England."

James knew it wasn't the queen, but it must be someone in the royal family. He couldn't think of anyone else except the possibility of the Prime Minister, but even that wasn't likely.

"The job is also ‘round the clock," M continued. "You will be able to take a personal leave occasionally, but the less I have to find a replacement, the safer the charge will remain."

It sounded like more than just a normal bodyguard position. He'd guarded for years before he'd moved up in MI6, but none of those jobs was ever this demanding. Even when he'd taken his turn at guarding Olivia after Mitchell had betrayed her it hadn't been more than a few weeks. Those few weeks, though, had turned into something more.

James shook himself quickly out of that memory as M opened a drawer in his desk.

"Now, James," he said cautiously. "You need to understand that this duty has been "eyes only" from the beginning."

There was something in M's manner that made James more attentive. When M hesitated briefly before handing the file to him, James reached out and took it warily.

He carefully opened the file, worried what he'd find. When he did, he took a long, quiet breath as a shock jolted through him. He couldn't turn his eyes back to M until his mind could wrap itself around the idea that this was not yet another dream. That he was truly staring at a recent photo of _his_ M. That she was as alive as the paperwork he was reading claimed. 

"I'm sorry, Bond," M's voice intruded into James thoughts. "I wanted you on this from the beginning." 

James glanced away from the file only to discern the truthfulness of M's words. Once done, he returned his gaze to _her_ face.

"I spoke with her when she woke in hospital," M explained. "Given the protocols she'd set up beforehand, I knew she would need a single bodyguard. I also knew she trusted you more than she trusted anyone else."

James felt himself involuntarily wince at those words.

"Yes," M said carefully, pausing at James' reaction then waiting a moment before continuing.

"She explained the two of you had a falling out as a result of your actions in Turkey," he explained.

James finally drew his gaze away from Olivia's file to really look at M. On the man's face he could see that M knew everything. She had actually told him. James never thought she'd tell anyone. When he'd been drowning in his self-pity and booze after she'd ordered the shot, he'd convinced himself that she was embarrassed to be involved with him.

M looked as if he'd like to hear James' side of things, but there was no side for him. He had fucked everything up. He had ruined the only good thing he'd ever had in his life. Then he'd failed her while desperately trying to prove himself to her. His selfishness and stupidity had destroyed his life, and hers.

"If you know all this, why are you sending me?" James finally asked.

M leaned back in his chair and folded his hands atop his chest. He looked for all the world like someone's grandfather about to dispense his life's worth of wisdom to his descendants. _His_ M never looked like anyone's grandparent, James thought. She always looked as if she was born to sit in that chair in her bright office.

"I need someone I can trust and that she can trust, and, to be honest, I'd like someone who will stay on for an extremely extended period," M told him.

James nodded, then turned his gaze again to the file, and Olivia's photograph.

"When do I start?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning," M replied.


	6. On the Sixth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continued from chapter five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, you know how I said this would be two chapters? Well, it kinda continued to get long and so, now it's three. But really, that will be it. I promise. Really. Truly. :)
> 
> And, this is nothing but 100% James-angst. I mean, serious. I mean, if you don't want to be sad right now, don't read. Really, I'm not kidding.

James walked to the door and pressed the bell. He looked up at the camera hidden in the corner of the overhang and waited.

He hadn’t slept much the night before. His mind playing through all Olivia’s possible reactions kept him up, as well as worried. He didn’t imagine a very warm reception. She’d made it clear after Turkey that, while she would allow him to continue to work with her, their relationship was over. She would trust him at work, but she could not otherwise.

After those thoughts his mind turned it around and he’d recall those small moments at Skyfall when he thought maybe she had forgiven him his transgression. Perhaps she missed him as he missed her. He would almost find sleep. But his mind would give him no peace, and in the next instance he’d see the other woman’s face, then he'd recall how he acted when Olivia had rejected him after his return.

Olivia had never said the words, but James had thought them often since Skyfall. He’d told her he loved her, gained her trust in him personally, known her in ways no other man had, then, in an act so selfish it still sickened him, he crushed that, destroyed what they’d had, what he’d worked so hard to gain, beyond any chance of repair.

The door opened, and James found himself face to face with Eve Moneypenny.

“James?” Eve was genuinely surprised. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you on the screen.”

She opened the door to allow him entry and James walked through to the living room. There he stopped and hoped he looked as impassive as he imagined he did.

Olivia stood on the other side of the room. She looked furious, like she had that night he’d returned to her. James could still feel the way her words had sliced through him like a well wielded knife. He’d deserved it, he knew. Just as he deserved this.

“I thought you had retired,” Eve was saying as she pulled on her jacket.

“I changed my mind,” he said, not moving his eyes from Olivia’s.

The pain from her open anger was better than the pain of thinking she was dead.

Eve hesitated, as if she was considering the wisdom of leaving them in such an obviously volatile situation.

Olivia made the decision for her by breaking eye contact with James.

“Eve, thank you so much,” she said kindly.

James gave the wall behind Olivia a neutral look so as not to allow Moneypenny to see how deeply moved he was at hearing Olivia's voice again.

Eve picked up her bag and Olivia followed her to the door.

“And congratulations on your promotion,” she said. “You certainly deserve it.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Eve replied.

James turned to watch her leave. Eve looked at him, obviously concerned. In her eyes, he saw a warning. He nodded in acknowledgement and Eve turned back to open the door once she was satisfied.

The two women said their goodbyes and Olivia shut the door to the cold. She paused only a moment before turning back to James.

“What the hell was Mallory thinking?”

She shook her head as she walked past him. James watched her pick up her cellphone and head toward the hall.

“Please, don’t,” he called after her.

His throat was so tight that his voice sounded like gravel to his own ears.

She turned back to him, obviously still angry.

“Please,” he said, trying not to sound needy, but failing miserably. “Please, just let me stay through Christmas.”

Her look did not change. She did not even acknowledge that he’d spoken, merely turned on her heal. He watched her raise the phone to her ear.

“Yes, he’s here,” she said to the person on the other end.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking?” she said angrily.

Then she walked through a door and shut it behind her and James could not hear the rest of the conversation.

He stood, unmoving, in the living room until she returned ten minutes later.

“Why the hell are you just standing there, Bond?” she barked. “Pick up your bag. I would have expected you to at least have checked the house by now.”

She showed him his room and he left his bag there. Then she walked him through the house. The floor plan was open and the only long hallway, leading to a door to the garage, was wider than usual. M had explained that Olivia was to give the appearance of an invalid. Her bodyguards had been believed by the neighbors to be her live-in caregivers.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” she asked when they finished in the kitchen.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“I’ll make myself something then we’ll have to go out to the grocer,” she said, walking over to the ice box. “I have a schedule and it wouldn’t due to change it even on Christmas Eve.”

“I could help you with breakfast,” James said, without thinking.

The look she gave him when she turned to him was not encouraging.

“I suggest you go and change so you look more appropriate to the part,” she said.

He merely nodded and returned to his room.

James opened the small suitcase he’d placed on the bed and removed a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt that were far more casual than the three-piece suit he’d arrived in. He’d picked the suit out carefully, after considering all the others in his closet. He hadn’t chosen the best, that would have been too obvious. But it had to be good enough that it would tell her he was taking this assignment seriously, but not doing it for any other purpose.

Of course, that was a bald-faced lie now that he was here. But at the time, he felt it was true. He wouldn’t try anything, wouldn’t beg. Well, that promise to himself was already broken. He couldn’t be angry, though. He’d had no choice. He was just relieved that it seemed she would let him stay the night.

He hung up the pants and the shirt and removed a travel iron from the case to steam the wrinkles out of the clothes. James would never deny he was vain about his appearance, and he was doubly so where she was involved. Even before he had noticed he was falling in love with her he made sure to wear only the clothing he thought the best for her.

After his clothes were steamed, he hung his suit up in the closet and changed. He looked in the mirror over the dresser to determine whether he should at least go over his face with a blade again. He’d been meticulous about shaving this morning. Olivia hated any semblance of a beard. When James would show up with a day or two growth after an assignment, she’d admonish him to shave that “Sonny Crocket thing" off his face.

James tried not to remember how it was worth the extra effort, how her fingers felt against his face as she “examined” his work, how her lips felt against his smoothed skin.

Taking a deep breath and dragging his thoughts into the present, James put on more practical shoes and went to find Olivia.

She was sitting in the living room, waiting. Impatiently, if he was to judge it by the way she was flipping the pages of the magazine she’d been pretending to read. She looked up when James walked into the room and he tried not to read anything into how her eyes quickly looked him over. He was certain the flicker of desire in her eyes was only his imagination. He wasn’t fool enough to think he’d ever earn that again.

“It’ll do,” she commented.

She walked over to the coat rack by the door and took a jacket from one of the hooks. Out of habit, James hurried over to help her He cringed inwardly when she stiffened at his touch. She turned to go to the garage, not bothering to finish buttoning her coat. He followed her, putting on a good face. It wouldn’t due to look as disappointed as he felt.

The trip to the grocer’s was maddening. So many people shopping for Christmas dinner made the aisles crowded and nearly impassable. Add to that the fact that Olivia used a wheelchair in public, James was glad he’d been trained to be patient around civilians.

Olivia’s demeanor had completely altered as soon as he’d raised the garage door. Gone was the woman he’d once known so well; the strong, independent, and unstoppable woman he’d fallen in love with so many years ago. In her place was an old, weak woman he would never have recognized had he seen her on the street. By the time they’d arrived at the store, James was so shaken by it that he didn’t get out of the car once he’d parked it.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked.

It was her voice, strong and sure, but it didn’t match the performance she needed to put on for the public eye.

“I’ve just never seen you like this,” he said.

“Well, I had plenty of practice after Skyfall, so just keep your part up and we’ll be fine,” she said.

She might not have meant it as a reprimand, but he took it as one all the same.

Helping her into the wheelchair took all his concentration. Tanner and a few of the nurses in medical had shown him the appropriate way to help her, but now that he was touching her, he was afraid. Not that he’d hurt her, but that she might take any touch he gave her the wrong way. He was trying to do everything perfectly, so she’d let him stay with her until tomorrow.

In the store, he maneuvered her as best he could, another trick they’d taught him in medical. Olivia directed him to the aisles they needed to go down, and James picked out the items off the shelves. By the time they were in line to pay, James was feeling a little more balanced despite how out of place he felt. If he’d so much as offered to do one thing he’d done for her on this trip under normal circumstances, she would have had his head. This would take some getting used to.

‘No,’ he thought, morosely. ‘I won’t get that opportunity.’

When they got to the register, James placed Olivia’s basket on the check stand.

“Mrs. Mawdsley,” the checker exclaimed. “So good to see you.”

Olivia nodded and smiled and waved from her chair. She might have even mumbled something about it being good to see her as well, but James couldn’t hear her over the din in the store.

“I see your new caretaker has arrived,” the checker said.

Her voice had changed from friendly to downright animalistic. James faked a smile as the clerk flirted with him under the guise of discussing him with Olivia. James hated women who did that when he and Olivia were out. As if he must be unattached if he was in public with a woman her age. He knew they were thinking she was only his mother. Once, when they were on a secret weekend away in Dover, James had become so upset when the woman wouldn’t shut up regardless how nice he tried to be, he’d pulled Olivia into his arms and kissed her passionately.

That course of action was out of the question now, even if he wasn’t masquerading as her nurse, so he improvised.

“Actually, miss,” he interrupted. “I prefer my partners a little more on the, uh, masculine side, if you catch my meaning.”

The woman looked as if he’d ruined her holiday plans. Which made James even more angry and he couldn't resist doing something to make his point even more plain.

“I suppose it makes her folks a little more at ease, me being this way,” he explained. “I mean, with a woman as beautiful as Mrs. Mawdsley, they wouldn’t want someone coming in and trying to steal her heart.”

He looked at the register to see how much he owed and handed it to the woman, who was now dumbstruck.

“Have a pleasant holiday, miss,” he said. Then he took the bags and hung them on the handles of the wheelchair and wheeled Olivia to the car.

She was quiet on the ride home, but he knew he’d get it once they arrived.

Once they were inside, she turned and glared at him.

“What was the meaning of that?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Olivia,” he replied. “But you know how angry that sort of thing makes me.”

She stared at him for a moment before answering.

“We’re not like that anymore,” was all she said before turning away and heading into the living room.

James let his heart imagine a hint of sadness in her voice. It wouldn’t matter if he fantasized because tomorrow he would leave and all he’d have again would be his memories.

After the groceries were put away, he made them some potato soup for lunch. She’d always enjoyed that on a cold day. She wandered in as he was in the midst of chopping the carrots. He forgot himself and looked up, giving her a smile as he always had. Her sad look and the shake of her head before she left and went into her bedroom quickly brought James back to earth.

Though Olivia did come out to eat the soup for lunch, the rest of the day was passed in veritable silence. She read, while he dozed in front of the fire, his sleepless night finally catching up with him.

Olivia pan-roasted some pork chops for dinner and after they ate, they sat silently in front of the fire. James finally got up and turned on the Christmas tree lights just to give himself something else to look at.

Finally, at eight, Olivia went to bed and James locked up the house, doused the fire, and turned off all the lights except those on the tree. He took a blanket and the pillow from the guest room bed and lay on the sofa.

As he watched the lights, he allowed himself to recall the Christmases they’d spent together. He’d done the same the previous Christmas. After Madeleine had fallen asleep, James crept out to their living room and flooded his mind with all the memories of Olivia.

Tonight, he thought of that first Christmas, the way they’d made love all night in front of the fireplace. The lights of their first tree provided a colorful ambiance that Olivia mistakenly thought made her look less attractive. He liked to think he’d dissuaded her of that false notion.

That only reminded him of how he had betrayed her trust. He still could not articulate why he’d done it. Why hadn’t he simply called when he’d come to his senses? Why had he acted so selfishly, leaving Olivia to believe him dead from the shot she’d ordered? He’d known it would hurt her, and he’d been pleased about it. 

James closed his eyes and tried to keep those old demons at bay. He never deserved her. He never deserved her trust. He’d proven that in one selfish act. He’d proven that the love he said he had for her was as worthless as the lies he told the women he was forced to seduce for his job.

Winning her trust had been difficult, winning it back would not be possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a nice day. :)


	7. On the Seventh Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part three of three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the final part of this story. Lots more angst. Maybe a happy ending. I don't know. You'll have to read to find out. ;)

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he awoke to the pressure of a hand on his leg. 

“James,” Olivia said. “You’ll be stiff if you sleep on this sofa all night.” 

He blinked up at Olivia. She was wrapped in a fluffy white robe and James almost reached for her, thinking she was another dream. He remembered where he was just in time. It wouldn’t be right for him to touch her that way. He had lost that privilege.

The clock on the wall showed it was one in the morning. Christmas Day, he thought. In a few hours, he would have to leave her. Mallory would be sending the replacement she’d asked for when James arrived. At least she’d allowed him to stay as he’d requested.

He sat up and was going to return to his room when it occurred to him that he finally had the opportunity he’d never been granted due to his arrogance, and the resulting events at Skyfall.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

“That’s alright, James,” she replied. “You can sleep here, but I’m afraid it’s not exactly comfortable.”

“Not that,” he said.

His throat felt like sand paper and he was certain he sounded like it as well.

“I’m sorry for what I did in Turkey,” he said. “I’m sorry I let you believe I was dead. I’m sorry I never contacted you. And I’m sorry I…”

James felt a wave of nausea as he finally allowed himself to acknowledge the full extent of his betrayal. He’d never had to. Before she’d died, he’d been too angry to care, but the small part that did had believed he could simply prove himself to her again. After, it hadn’t mattered.

“I’m sorry about that woman, about sleeping with her, about betraying your faith and trust in me.”

Olivia sat stiffly at the other end of the sofa.

“Why are you saying these things now?” she asked.

“Because in a few hours you will be a ghost to me again,” he said. “And I know it all should have been said years ago.”

“You aren’t a man of words,” she said. “You are a man of action.”

James shook his head.

“Don’t excuse me,” he said.

He just wanted her to be angry with him, as she had been that night he returned. He wanted her to tell him how much he’d hurt her, so he could carry that pain with him when he left.

They were silent for a few moments before Olivia spoke.

“How will I be a ghost to you, James?” she asked.

“When my replacement comes,” he said. “When I have to leave. But I wanted you to know that I see what a fool I was to hurt you. You deserve so much better. You deserve everything I promised you.”

James stared at the lights on the tree and tried to organize his thoughts. He had one shot at this, he had to make it count. She was obviously still hurt by what he did. He wanted to use the right words to at least take some of that pain away.

“You said I am a man of action,” he started. “And that is true. I was always trying to prove myself to you, not by my words but by my works. That sort of thing feels more real to me.

“When I came back, I thought I could do the same,” he continued. “I thought it would be enough to just show you by my works.”

He shook his head.

“But I should have done more,” he explained. “I should have told you, I should have admitted that I was in the wrong instead of trying to put the blame on you. You were not to blame at all.”

James turned to look at Olivia, but her face was as unreadable as it ever had been.

“What would you have done had I not faked my death, if I had returned to MI6?” she asked.

James truly did not know the answer to that question.

“I hope I would have eventually understood what I learned without you,” he surmised. “That there was no going back to what we had. That I had ruined it all.”

There was a prolonged silence between them before Olivia tried to stifle a yawn.

“You need to sleep,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she said.

She looked up at him and studied his face like she used to. It made James feel as warm as it had the first time he’d noticed her doing it, and he opened everything to her. It was the least he could do.

“Why did you come here, James?” she asked.

“M asked me,” he replied.

She shook her head.

“No, why did you agree to it?”

James sighed.

“I just wanted to see you, to hear your voice, one last time,” he said.

“You suspected I would turn you out as soon as you arrived?”

He nodded.

“Well, has this appeased you guilt?” she asked.

“It was never meant to, ma’am,” he said. “But I had hoped that if you were still hurt by what I’d done, it might bring you some peace or closure.”

Olivia looked surprised by his words. James just continued to be as open in his features as he knew how.

After several minutes, she finally spoke again.

“What would you do if you stayed?” she asked.

James turned away and stared at the lights as he contemplated that fantasy. Thinking of such an impossible thing was painful, but she had asked so it must be of some use to her.

“I would make sure we went out somewhere each day,” he turned back to her with a smile. “That way I could do things for you, like I did at the grocer.”

She thought about that for a moment before asking her next question.

“But what about when we were here, alone in the house?” she asked.

He shrugged.

“I could cook for you,” he said.

She nodded.

“But would you pressure me for more?”

“I couldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I know there’s no chance of that. No matter what I do.”

He took a deep breath, so he could continue as calmly as possible.

“I broke your trust,” he said. “I know it will not be possible to win that back, not that way.”

She was silent, and James wished he knew what to say to make things easier for her.

“You know, of course, that my first husband cheated on me several times,” she said.

James did know. That knowledge had been the basis of his promise to never do the same to her. He’d sworn to her he was different, but he was really just the same: selfish and vain. She really did deserve so much better.

“Each time he blamed me,” she told him. “It was always, ‘you’re never here,’ or, ‘you don’t meet my needs,’ or some other excuse.”

Olivia took a shaky breath before continuing.

“He was never like other husbands,” she continued. “You know, those that when they’re caught take their wives on fancy holidays or buy them pretty, expensive things. Life just continued as it had, because he knew I had no choice. If I divorced him, it would have set me back at work. And by the time I was high enough in MI6 that it wouldn’t, well, there was no point, really.”

James listened, even though it hurt to realize how he was exactly like that man. He’d always hated Edward. Before the man was sick and died, he was jealous. When Olivia had told him about the affairs, he developed a greater contempt for him, thinking the man an idiot who didn’t know what a wonderful woman he had.

Wasn’t that the description of him, he thought. The man who had the trust of the most valuable women he’d ever known, and he’d thrown it all away for what? Petty spite, that’s all.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I turned out to be just like him. I’m so sorry I hurt you like he did.”

James stared at the lights as the tears formed at the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t cry, though. He had no right to that. He’d brought this all on himself.

“If you stayed, you would take care of me?” she asked.

James turned to her not really understanding why she was changing the subject back to that.

“Yes, I would,” he told her. “Whatever you needed from me. Even though I would know it was mostly just for appearances.”

She was giving him that look she always did when she expected him to see something that she thought was obvious. Try as he might, he had no idea what it could be.

Finally, she smiled softly at him.

“James, I’m not sending you away,” she said.

“You’re not?”

Hope swelled up in him.

“Not unless you want to go away,” she answered.

“No, absolutely not.”

He tried to rein in his excitement, but it was proving difficult.

“I did call M,” she told him. “His answer to me was that you needed this.”

She paused, and James waited. So, M had thought this through more than James expected.

“And he said I needed it too,” she said.

“Every time I speak with him, I promise myself I won’t ask after you, but I always do,” she admitted quietly. “And I’m afraid that with Eve here, I might have mentioned you far too often.

“I’ve missed you, James,” she said quietly. “I’ve missed what we had.”

The sadness on her face made James want to take her in his arms. But he knew that was out of the question. She’d asked him if he’d try to push things, and he’d promised he wouldn’t. He would never break another promise to her.

“I should very much like to have it again,” she said.

Now James was very confused. How could they ever have that again when he was just like her first husband?

He shook his head.

“No, I won’t risk hurting you again,” he said. “I can be your guard, maybe we can be pleasant together, but I don’t ever want to put you through all of that again.”

“James, I have also had a lot of time to think about what happened between us,” she said. “I think it can be prevented if you do not put be back on that pedestal you had me on before.”

“Pedestal?”

She nodded and smiled.

“You know, we had an unusual relationship,” she explained. “Yes, it had been nearly three years, but in many ways, we were still like honeymooners. We never had a chance to develop more.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I thought we were both happy. I didn’t see any problems.”

“There weren’t any, James,” she said. “And that *was* the problem. By then we should have had several arguments, if not straight out fights about things. But we never had time or opportunity. Our moments together were stolen and fleeting. We were like teenagers in love for the first time, believing there would never be anything to challenge our relationship.”

James considered what she said. It was certainly a good description of their couplings. They’d had to sneak around, make up excuses, and they were alone together very rarely. He’d been so in love with her that, now that she said it, he probably did have her on some sort of pedestal.

“I did, I suppose,” he said. “I just had never felt anything like it before.”

She squeezed his hand.

“Nor had I,” she said. “Neither of us knew what we were doing. And when you saw how incredibly flawed I was, it probably broke your heart.”

“It’s still no excuse,” he started.

“I’m not excusing you,” she said. “But you still don’t see why you did it, do you?”

James had to acknowledge the truth in that.

“No,” he said. “I broke all my promises to you.”

“You were very disappointed in me,” she said. “Then I was very disappointed in you.”

She sighed.

“Neither of us was ready for something so painful,” she said. “We’d never had time to lay any sort of groundwork.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted.

“Neither did I,” she said. “When I married, the rule was ‘stay married no matter what.’ It made things less complicated, I suppose, but so much more painful for those who were hurt in marriage.

“I felt I would have a different relationship with you,” she said. “But I didn’t know anything about how to make that happen.”

They were both silent for some time. James thought about her view of things. It was possible that he had indeed thought too highly of her. As he considered it now, he had developed a habit of worshiping her. And for the reason she said, they were rarely together. He looked at each moment they could have alone as something to make the most of.

“I guess that’s the downfall of a secret relationship,” he said. “It’s very exciting, but not very practical.”

She chuckled, and James let the sound wash over him. He wanted, again, to take her into his arms, but even if she was serious about trying again, he felt that action was a long way off.

After a moment, she shifted and moved closer to him to lay her head on his shoulder. James was confused at first, his senses were overwhelmed by her closeness, by her scent, but he couldn’t understand why she would want to be this close to him.

“You are always too hard on yourself,” she said, as if reading his thoughts, which, knowing Olivia, she had.

She stifled another yawn, and though James was loathe to move now that she was this close to him, he couldn’t let her remain her with him when she obviously needed sleep.

“I really think you should go back to bed,” he said softly.

She nodded and slowly stood but did not release his hands.

“Join me?” she asked.

He shook his head sadly.

“I can’t,” he said. “I need you to fully trust me before…”

His voice trailed off. Why was she asking him for this already?

“No, James,” she said. “I just want you to hold me.”

He looked up at her.

“This is one of those normal things that normal people do?” he smiled.

“I believe it is,” she said.

He stood and took her into his arms.

“Might as well start practicing here?” he half-joked.

He was stiff and didn’t relax until she put her own arms around him.

“This was a bad idea,” he said.

“Why?”

“Now I don’t want to let you go,” he said. “Would it be too much to ask if I carry you to your room?”

She shook her head and James leaned down to put his arm under her knees. He carried her into the room and set her down. He thought that this would work just fine, right up until she took off her robe. Even in her flannel gown, James found her alluring.

It must have shown on his face because Olivia tsked him.

“Really, James,” she admonished. “It’s just an ordinary gown. You’ve seen me in far more sexy clothing.”

He shook his head.

“No, it’s the woman who makes the clothes sexy or not,” he said.

She smiled and, James thought, she might have blushed, but she turned away to the bed before he could be sure.

They had never simply laid together as she had proposed they do. There never was the time.

It took a moment, but they found a comfortable position for both of them.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said.

She sounded tired. James held her a little more tightly, resisting the urge to even give her a kiss atop her head. There would be time for that later.

There never was before. She was right, everything in their relationship had been rushed, desperate even. They’d not had time to build anything. But it wasn’t because they didn’t desire it, just that neither truly knew how, especially given the limitations they had no choice but to follow.

Now they would. James wondered what it would be like. He drifted to sleep with images of days spent sitting in the sun in the garden, enjoyable meals together, and long holidays in sunny places.

This was truly his happiest Christmas ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, I think I've written like two unhappy ending stories in my entire career. You wouldn't know that my favorite novels are dystopian and I utterly hate a happy ending in books I get at the bookstore. :D But movies and fanfic, that's a whole other story. I'm weird that way.


	8. On the Eighth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia brings James his Christmas present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after all that awful angst, I decided to move this story forward so you could have a little break.

James sat in his favorite chair, swirling a snifter of fine brandy, and watching the lights on his small tree blink as he mused on this new feeling of contentment. It wasn’t something he’d had often in his life. He could probably count on one hand, in fact, the number of times he might have felt this way.

Taking a sip of the liquor, he thought about the reason for his contentment, and smiled. It had certainly been an unusual year for he and M. No, now he could call her by her name. Olivia. God, he even thought the name like some besotted youth. She’d not be happy about that, but today, he would indulge himself.

It was Christmas day and she’d be spending it with her daughter and family. Her husband had passed at the beginning of the year and that had been difficult for her. He’d known the two had a good relationship, which had made his interest in her infuriating. After he’d died, James had tried to keep his distance, thinking he would give her time to grieve before he said or did anything.

In October, his hand had been forced by a threat on her life. He’d been so relieved to find her unscathed he’d stupidly taken her into his arms once they had a moment in private. James had expected her to berate him, but she remained there for some time.

When she’d finally been forced from his arms by the sound of approaching feet, she smiled up at him. James wasn’t sure what it meant, but later she asked him why he hadn’t tried anything yet. She had known for some time of his interest in her. Of course, she had. No one had ever known him as well.

They hadn’t gone far in their relationship, at least if he was to compare it to all his previous ones. By now he would have taken her to bed. But her husband had only been gone a short time, the demands of their jobs kept them both busy, and the fact that they had to keep it a secret kept them from having had more than a few kisses in the past two months. Though, the last time they were alone, he’d required a cold shower once she’d left.

Usually, this would have frustrated James. He’d probably have given up on any other woman by now. But M, Olivia, was too important. He’d waited too long for this opportunity. They would get there. It would probably take a while, but it really didn’t bother James in the slightest. He supposed that's what true contentment was.

A rap on his door brought him out of his reverie and he walked over, keeping the brandy in hand, and took a look through the spy hole. He was surprised to see M and her bodyguard. Something important must have come up. He opened the door quickly.

“M?” he asked. “What’s happened?”

“That will be all, Agent Andrews,” she said to her bodyguard. “Bond will take it from here.”

James nodded at the man and he turned to go down the stairs. Then he opened the door to allow M entrance.

“What’s happened?” he asked again.

There must have been another threat.

“Is your family alright?” he asked.

God, if anything happened to them now.

“Everyone is fine,” she replied as she unbuttoned her coat.

He helped her out of it then hung it up on the hook by the door.

“I told Elizabeth to go ahead with her husband to her in-law’s for Christmas dinner,” she said.

James was confused. He had assumed she would want to be around her family today, her first Christmas without her husband.

“Wouldn’t you have rather gone with them?” he asked.

“Christ, no,” she exclaimed. “Elizabeth’s father-in-law is a boorish clod. I can’t stand the man. He’d probably say something rude and I would never have held my tongue. That would have made for a difficult evening.”

He led her into the living room intending to offer her a drink and some dinner.

“Besides,” she said as they entered. “I never gave you your Christmas present.”

James chuckled.

“It could have waited until tomorrow at the office, Olivia,” he told her. “I would have been fine.”

“Oh, I don’t think that would have been appropriate at all,” she said.

He was about to ask her why when she reached up and undid the top button of her blouse. Before James could grasp what was happening, she was opening the third and his jaw had slackened. His breaths became shallow as she opened the shirt then allowed it to slide down her arms. He watched it fall to the ground as if in a trance.

Drawing his eyes back up her body, he paused at her breasts, where a red, lacy bra covered her. His tongue darted out of his mouth involuntarily and wet his lips. He looked up at her face and swallowed hard when he saw the lust and desire in her eyes. He was so intent on her face that he startled when her bra snapped open. He hadn’t even noticed her move to undo it. He watched her slowly remove it then drop it on top of her blouse.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered.

His feet seemed nailed to the ground, which didn’t bother Olivia in the slightest. She raised her hands to her neck then slowly caressed herself, taking longer at her breasts, and finally stopping at her waist to unsnap her pants.

James’ head was spinning as he watched her slowly pull the zipper down, then begin to push the pants and her knickers off her hips and down her legs. He wasn’t sure how he even stayed on his feet. He felt like he might faint dead away from the pleasure of watching her.

Once her clothes were removed, she stood before him in a model’s pose, one hand on her hip and the most irresistible come hither look any woman had ever given him.

“Where would you like me to lay your present, James?”

It took a full minute before his brain could harness any of the words he thought he’d known his whole life.

“The bed?” he squeaked.

He’d have been embarrassed if he could think beyond the arousal that had consumed every centimeter of his body, overpowering any form of cognitive thought.

She smiled at him.

“Good choice,” she said, her voice even lower than usual.

She turned and sauntered into the bedroom. James could not keep his eyes from watching her hips sway seductively from side to side.

Once she was out of sight, James stood for another minute, his mind still not able to think clearly. He wanted to follow her, but there was the matter of something in his hand. He looked over and saw he still held the brandy snifter. He needed to set it down, but his pants hand grown far too tight to comfortably move.

Taking care, and moving slowly, he leaned over to the coffee table and set the glass down. Then he removed his clothing as quickly as he could. He’d never make it to the bedroom whole if his hard cock rubbed for one more second against his pants. Then he hurried to the room.

When he arrived, he found that removing the pants was not enough as he nearly came at the sight of her. Olivia had her back against the headboard, her legs spread, as she prepared herself with some lube.

James was sure he could physically feel her devouring him with her eyes as she looked him over while touching herself. Her own tongue darted out when her vision fell to his hard cock.

“Oh, that *is* so very nice, indeed,” she said in a breathy voice.

“Olivia, god, woman, I need you,” he said, impressed that he could string that many words into a meaningful sentence.

She set aside the lube and wiped her hand on a towel he hadn’t noticed lying on the side table. Then she held out her hand to him.

He was on her in less than a second. His lips crushed against hers as their bodies met. He rutted against her, one thought only in his mind.

“I need to be inside you,” James breathed out between kisses. “Please, I can’t last much longer.”

He half expected her to laugh at him, but she answered him just as breathlessly.

“I won’t either,” she said. “God, I need you so badly.”

She reached between them to take his cock in her hand, then slid him into position. He entered her as slowly as he could manage. She had her eyes closed, her face looked pleasured. He reached his hand to her breast and was rewarded with a gasp.

Once he was in, he tried to let her set a pace she wanted. It was excruciating. He had never known such need.

“James, please, harder,” she gasped.

He picked up the pace as he bucked into her and was rewarded with her nails sinking into the muscles on his back.

“Oh, god,” he yelled. “Fuck, I’m not.”

And that was all he could say before he shot into her. He continued to thrust and was grateful he felt her spasm around him as she came shortly after him.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped.

“Whatever for,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “That was fantastic.”

“I couldn’t wait for you,” he said, pressing kisses to her neck and collarbone.

“It’s fine, James,” she assured him. “I nearly went before you. We can worry about finesse next time.”

“Next time?” he grinned as his hand moved back to her breast.

She released a long, deep moan of pleasure and James lowered his mouth to her other breast.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“So next time is now?” he asked, knowing full well that was not what she’d meant.

“It might have to be if you continue what you are doing,” she admitted.

“Do you want me to continue?” he asked.

He smiled up at her. She raised her hand to his head and carded her fingers through his hair.

“Well, I might need a little rest first,” she said. “Perhaps a little sustenance.”

He imagined she would. It had probably been a terribly long day for her. She had said she wasn’t used to all the family drama she had to tolerate at holidays. It was worse than work, she’d told him.

He planted kisses from her breasts to her neck and finally her lips.

“Why don’t you rest,” he said. “And I’ll work on the sustenance part.”

Reluctantly, he crawled off her and off the bed. He got a pair of shorts from his drawer and stepped into the en suite to clean up a bit before making some dinner. By the time he came back into the room, Olivia was snuggled down into the blankets, snoring softly.

For the first time in his life, James felt utterly overwhelmed at the sight of a woman sleeping in his bed. It was terrifying. Yet, at the same time, he knew this was exactly as it should be. She looked like she belonged here.

He quietly stepped over and kissed her on the temple.

“Happy Christmas, love,” he whispered.


	9. On the Ninth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas, post-Quantum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my head canons is that the reason M never visits James in hospital after LeChiffre has tortured him is that her husband dies at the same time. I came up with that based on a scene in Quantum, the one where she's in the bath talking with Tanner. The camera shows through the door into her bedroom. While in Casino Royale, her husband is seen in bed with her. In Quantum, the bed is empty. In the Craig movies, nothing is done without a reason. They pay a lot of attention to "piddly" little details. I figured that's what they were trying to say. :)
> 
> Also, sorry this is so late. I had a busy day and hadn't finished editing it before I left.

James grumbled at the sound of his phone ringing so early on Christmas morning. He looked at the screen and spit out a curse.

”I'm on mandatory leave, Tanner,” he groused in place of a greeting.

”Yes, well I have a delicate matter I need you to attend to,” he said. ”Trust me, I'd rather ask someone else, but I think she trusts you more.”

James was almost certain Tanner mumbled ”for some unknown reason” under his breath, but he ignored it.

”Tell her she’ll have to sign me back on if she wants me to do any bloody work for her,” James said.

”It's for me,” Tanner said.

James sat up in his bed, now fully engaged. Why would Tanner be asking?

”I just need you to go over to her flat and check on her,” Tanner explained.

”Doesn't she have a bodyguard?” James asked

He leaped out of the bed and put Tanner on speaker. Throwing on his clothes quickly he ran through all the scenarios of what might have happened and he just hoped was not another traitorous MI6 agent.

”Her bodyguards are on duty outside the flat,” Tanner assured him.

James grabbed his gun and checked it before holstering it and pocketing extra cartridges.

”What’s happened, then?” he asked. 

He was at his front door now and grabbed his coat and gloves. His keys were in the jacket pocket and he stepped out his front door making sure it was locked behind him.

”I called her this morning, ” Tanner said. ”And she doesn't seem, well, she just seems off.”

James’s mental scenario shifted as he unlocked his car and got in and started the engine.

”Do you think she's been poisoned?” he asked. ”You should probably have an ambulance meet me there.”

”No, nothing like that, I assure you, ” Tanner said. ”I'm just worried but I'm down here in Normandy with my parents for the holiday.”

James was not sure why Tanner was being so vague about the circumstances.

”What should I expect when I arrive, ” James asked.

”Oh, I expect she’ll spit and curse my name, ” Tanner said.

”Look, Bill, I really need a bit more to go on here, ” James said.

”I just think it would be helpful if she's not alone all day,” Tanner said.

Still not much of an explanation.

”Alone? Where's her husband?”

There was silence at the other end and James wondered if the call wasn't dropped.

”Tanner?”

”I’m here,” he said. “I’m sorry, Bond, I thought you knew. Her husband had a stroke and died just a few months ago.”

“What? When?”

Tanner gave him the dates and James started thinking through the events of the past year.

“Shit, I had no idea, I thought she sent an emissary because she was pissed at me for getting captured,” he said.

Something began to twist in his gut. He had been so angry with her for ignoring him all that time. He didn’t even consider offering her more than a brief email to announce his resignation.

“No, she was on her way to the airport as soon as they called to say they’d found you, but the housekeeper called about Nigel and she headed to the hospital instead.”

The twist in his gut was growing worse. It was one thing to be wrong about someone but James had been basing many of his actions on the belief she was a callous bitch. S he’d immediately left to go to him. What an arse he was.

“Alright, I’ll take care of it.”

Tanner disconnected the call and James drove on in silence. He thought about everything that had happened and he realized he should have pressed for answers beyond “she isn’t available.” If he hadn’t gotten them he could have easily looked this information up. Instead he chose to believe she didn’t give a damn about him or what happened to him, while she sat alone at her husband’s bedside.

They’d had one child, she and Nigel Mansfield, a son who’d joined the Navy and gone into the intelligence branch there. He’d been killed in Iraq during the Kuwait war. M was an orphan, like James, and Nigel’s family had long passed. His only living relative was an older cousin who was in a nursing home due to dementia.

James was a kilometer away from M’s flat when he saw two men setting up a corner flower stand. He stopped and bought a bright red bunch of amaryllis. Then he continued on.

Outside the flat he identified the car with one bodyguard inside. Another was presumably inside by the front door and still another should be at the lift. When he’d broken into her flat earlier in the year, she’d only had the one bodyguard, Mitchell. That was all anyone thought she’d needed.

That bastard would have been with her at the hospital, he’d have been with her when Nigel died. James wished for more than one chance to kill him. But then he’d want another and another.

He parked and noticed he merited only a glance from the parked bodyguard. Tanner obviously told them of his visit.

James nodded to him and walked toward the door. The guard inside opened the door for James and nodded silently in greeting as well.

The guard by the lift was on his phone, from the sound of it he was speaking with M. He put his phone back in his pocket and pressed the call button.

James wondered what M had said but he was beginning to think his appearance was going to be no more welcome than the night he’d broken in. It might be better not to know.

The ride up was silent and James only hoped she wasn’t armed and waiting for him.

When the doors slid open, James hesitated. His usual confidence momentarily stalled in the face of the unknown.

“Don’t keep Agent Randall waiting Bond,” he heard M’s voice from inside the darkened flat.

When he stepped out of the lift, the doors closed behind him and the mechanics hummed as it took Agent Randall back to his post.

His eyes adjusted and he saw her sitting in a chair by the unlit fireplace.

“So Tanner sent you, eh?” M asked and James noticed her words were slightly slurred.

He walked toward her and saw a bottle of whiskey next to her. She had a tumbler half full in her hand.

“Remind me to take back his Christmas bonus,” she drolled.

“Why? Because he cares?”

It came out more harshly than he intended, or maybe he had intended. He was nervous and had no idea how to act. He wasn’t used to taking care of her this way.

“Good point, I suppose,” she sighed. “But I wouldn’t want you beginning to think I was anything more than a cold bitch who uses her employee without thought.”

She took a drink from her glass and James was tempted to scold her for drinking at this time of day, but that would be the height of hypocrisy. He’d been spending all hours lost in a bottle lately.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, still unable to alter his usual tone.

“Look, Bond, you checked on me like Bill asked, you can leave. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

“Not really.”

She actually snorted in response and James used that reaction to measure that she’d had entirely too much to drink already.

“It’s Christmas,” she waved her glass, though in no specific direction. “All those lonely women in the pubs this afternoon. You’ll need your rest to keep up with the demand.”

If her remark was meant as humor, she didn’t laugh.

“I don’t much fancy being used by a woman again,” he replied.

M was silent for a moment and stared into the vacant fireplace.

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” she finally said.

She choked on the last words and that only made James more uncomfortable.

“Let me make you some breakfast,” he said, mostly to break the awkwardness of the situation but also finally feeling the need for food.

He waited only half a minute for a response without getting one. So he turned and walked to the kitchen.

He only knew the location of the room, not the actual location of anything he needed. He ventured that in some cabinet there must be a vase or jar for the flowers so he set about to find one.

“The vases are under the sink,” came M’s weary voice from the doorway.

James opened the cabinet she’d indicated and found a vase immediately. She sat at the kitchen table while he filled the vase with water. Then he removed the wrappers from the flowers and set them in the vase on the table for her to see.

M stared at them vacantly and James fought the chill of fear he felt seeing her in this state.

Deciding it would be better to move than to dwell on the melancholy of his boss, he went to the refrigerator and got out some eggs and bread. He made scrambled eggs and toast, figuring that would settle best on her stomach. He served up two plates and some water then sat down with her to eat.

“Without the eggs this is just bread and water,” she said.

“Juice will make you vomit in your condition and I’d rather not have to clean that up,” he replied.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, but there was no bite in her words.

They are in silence and James washes up the dishes as M didn’t seem steady on her feet.

“I can take care of myself,” she repeated as he followed her back to the living room.

Her words were still slurred but there was more of a sting to them now and that made him smile as he returned to the kitchen.

When he rejoined her in the living room he turned on the artificial fireplace and sat in the chair next to hers. She didn’t say anything against it and James hoped he wasn’t reminding her of her husband by sitting with her like this.

M didn’t speak again for a long time, but neither did she take another drink. Perhaps she was afraid he’d never leave if she didn’t sober up.

The silence was a comfortable one, though it didn’t surprise James. They’d flown back from Russia together and James had watched her work until she looked like she’d drop. He’d had her close her laptop and got a blanket for her to lay on one of the couches in the MI6 private jet.

He thought about how compliant she’d been. He hadn’t known about her husband’s death and her behavior hadn’t made sense. She had taken a book out of her carry-on and read, James finding a magazine and following suit.

Now the two of them simply stared into the fire and James soon found himself lost in his own thoughts. He still spent far too much time thinking of how Vesper had betrayed him and wondering what it was about him that she continued to choose her other lover rather than him. He’d have helped her if he’d only known.

His thoughts continued like that as he lost track of time. Finally, M’s voice broke the silence.

“I meant what I said, James. Regret is unprofessional. It’s also unproductive and will possibly drive you mad.”

He turned to her and was caught by surprise at how the soft lighting of the fire place seemed to take years off her face. But mostly he saw the glint on her strength in her eyes. He turned away quickly because that’s what he’d thought he’d seen in Vesper.

James didn’t want to discuss it and M seemed to respect that. He supposed if he’d been made to talk that she might fear she’d be made to do the same.

Shortly, James became aware that M’s breaths had evened and looked over to find her asleep, her head lolling to the left and her mouth slightly open. He was torn between amusement and fear. It really was unusual to see her this way and he worried how she'd react once she realized he had.

After a few minutes he figured she’d get a sore neck if he didn’t move her. He debated a moment before walking to her and gently lifting her into his arms. The alcohol seemed to be doing the trick in keeping her asleep, which relieved James. It would be bad enough when she woke in her bed and realized how she got there, but maybe she’d be rested enough by then that she’d forgive him more readily.

As he carried her up the stairs, her head rested on his shoulder. He felt her breath brush across his neck and was surprised at the effect it had. He’d always thought her attractive, but had never gone beyond that. He’d certainly never felt close to her, yet he’d always had the need to please her, to earn her acceptance. She was his superior and he assumed that was the reason.

Maybe this odd feeling was due to the new knowledge that she was not what he’d thought of her, that he had entirely misjudged her.

He reached her bedroom and pushed open the door.

“Not here,” she mumbled.

He looked down at her but her eyes were still closed.

“Where?” He asked.

“Guest room,” she said.

That she didn’t indicate it’s location let James know she’d already figured out he’d explored her flat the night he’d broke in. He was no longer sure how he felt about that.

He was also unsure how he felt carrying her to a bed knowing she was awake and could probably walk herself there. Still, she didn’t demand to be set down so he took her to the room and lay her on the bed and proceeded to help her under the covers.

He left her to sleep and returned downstairs. He stood in the living room and considered leaving, but that seemed wrong somehow. Staying, however, would force him to think about what was happening. Something was shifting and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted it to shift. It made more sense for the two of them to fight as he tried to gain her trust. Instead, it seemed he’d already gained that trust.

He called downstairs to the bodyguards and sent Agent Randall to find a Christmas tree. It was impulsive, but impulsive defined James. He then went on a quiet hunt for decorations and found them in a closet in yet another guest bedroom.

If Agent Randall thought anything unusual about the situation when he brought the tree up the lift and saw the decorations James was going through, he kept silent about them. He simply returned to his post after helping James set the tree in the stand.

It wasn’t much of a tree, unsurprisingly, but it was enough. James quickly decorated it and tried not to be too pleased with himself. She might fire him for taking liberties when she saw it.

Three hours after he finished, he heard the door upstairs open. He’d been sitting at the table by the window watching a light snowfall and trying not to think about anything.

“I wondered what you were rummaging in my closets for,” she said when she saw the tree.

He watched as she stared at the tree.

“Well, I suppose I might not take back Tanner’s bonus after all,” she said, then she went to sit by the tree.

“Would you like some lunch?” He asked.

He expected her to say that she could take care of herself like earlier, but she only nodded.

He found some canned soup in the pantry and heated it. Then he placed it on a tray and carried it to the living room.

Once they'd eaten and he cleaned the dishes, he finally acquiesced to her command for him to leave.

"Happy Christmas, M," he saids as he entered the lift.

"Happy Christmas to you as well, Bond," she said with a slight smile. "And, thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgement as the doors slid shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in the next chapter.


	10. On the Tenth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Chapter 9, one year later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late. I've been so busy in the garden and trying to get the kids to appointments before school starts back on Monday.

**One year later**

James was in ecstasy with the woman’s warm body beneath him. She moaned and writhed as he pleasured her breasts. His lips parted in a smile around her nipple as she sighed his name.

Slowly, he began to move further down her body. His lips lingering occasionally against her skin. He reached one hand down to encourage her to spread her legs open, his mouth already salivating in anticipation of his feast.

The shrill sound of his cellphone sent a shock through his body. They were both still for a second, then James swore loudly. 

He quickly tried to pull himself together as he moved away from his prize to answer the phone. To add insult to injury, the woman began to laugh at him. He glared back at her as he pressed the screen to accept the call.

“Bloody hell, Tanner,” he complained through gritted teeth. “I’m on holiday.”

“James, yes, sorry,” he mumbled before getting to the point of the call.

“It’s M,” he said. “I’m a bit worried about her.”

James groaned.

“Again, Tanner?” 

“She’s just been acting, well, she’s been a little,” Tanner was hesitating.

“Look, Tanner, it’s been over a year since her husband died,” James interrupted. “I’m sure she’s fine. You can ask her tomorrow.”

“Actually, that’s one of the odd things,” Tanner explained. “She’s taken tomorrow off.”

James sat up straight, truly surprised at that.

“Well, that _is_ unusual,” he admitted. 

He’d never known M to take more than one day off at a time.

“Maybe she’s gone on holiday somewhere,” he suggested.

“No, there are no plans to travel on her itinerary and her bodyguard is outside her flat,” Tanner said.

There was a pause, which was excruciating to James because behind him there was a woman he would really rather be pleasuring than talking with Tanner about anything.

“Do you think I should stop by,” he asked. “Check on her?”

“God, no,” James spat out. “You sent me last year. I doubt she’ll be forgiving if you check on her two years in a row.”

Tanner hummed in agreement.

“Look, Tanner,” he said. “I really don’t want to spend my holiday talking about our boss.”

“What? Right, of course,” Tanner said. “Well, so long as you’re sure.”

“She’s fine,” James said. “She just probably wants a break from all the stress and if she feels comfortable doing that at her new flat, then you should be happy. Think of the work she’s saved you in travel planning and security logistics.”

“You’re right, James,” he said. “Sorry to bother you.”

“No bother at all,” James lied.

“Happy Christmas,” Tanner said.

“Yes, Happy Christmas to you, as well,” James responded before ending the call.

He set the phone on the side table and moaned.

“What was that all about?” the woman asked.

James rubbed his face with his hands to relieve the tension that had built up during the call. Then he turned back to her.

He smiled as he admired her body. She really was exquisite.

“Fellow at work,” he explained. “I think he has a crush on our boss.”

James placed a lingering kiss right below her ear and was rewarded with a deep groan. Slowly, he began to work his way back down her body, heading for his original intended destination.

“I thought your boss was an old woman,” she commented.

James really did not want to talk, but apparently everyone else in the world did.

“Oh, yes, and a shrew at that,” he said and brought his teeth to bare in one nipple.

She gasped sharply. And James quickly laved the site with his tongue to take the edge off.

“A shrew, you say,” she replied, breathlessly now.

“Oh, god, an awful one,” James said. “I honestly don’t see what the man sees in her.”

James hands pushed the woman’s legs apart. Then he looked down and licked his lips at the sight of her pussy. God, this was what he’d wanted since he’d cajoled her into bed.

“Do you think he’d ever say anything to her?” she asked.

James closed his eyes. He must be losing his touch if she still wanted to continue conversation.

“I bloody well hope not,” he said before dropping his head between her legs and giving he a long, slow kick that elicited such a deep moan of pleasure from her he was certain she’d drop it for now.

He began feasting on her at a pace slow and intense. Very quickly it seemed to be doing the trick, her breathes were coming in gasps and her hands were fisted in the sheets in a vain attempt at retaining control.

When she climaxed, his name poured off her lips in a stream of praises and vulgarity that made James feel warm, and even harder than he’d been.

He was reaching for the lube and considering which position would bring the most pleasure to both of them when she spoke.

“But what if he did say something?” She asked. 

James groaned.

“Well, it would make things awkward at work,” he said.

“Why’s that?”

James rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Because,” he sighed. “Every time I saw the man I’d have to refrain from breaking his arms.”

The woman gasped.

“Why so violent, James?” she asked .” Do you have a crush on her as well?”

Her smile was sensual as she traced a line from his chin down the center of his body with her finger.

James caught her hand up and gave her as fake a smile as he could muster.

“What I have is far more than a crush,” he said, leaning over to apply the lube finally.

“Oh? What do you have?” She asked.

James took a deep breath to express his frustration at the continued conversation. Wiping the rest of the lube on his cock, he opted to simply settle between her legs.

“Well, if you must know,” he grunted as he entered her. “What I have for her is…more along the lines…of unbridled lust.”

He was impressed with himself at being able to speak at all.

“God, you feel so good,” he gasped when he was finally deeply inside her.

“Lust, you say?” she asked, though, she too sounded breathless.

“Seriously? We still have to have this conversation? Now?” he asked, incredulous that she was still talking about it.

“Have you told her about your inappropriate desire for her?” she asked.

James narrowed his eyes at her.

“Inappropriate?” he asked, then caused her to give out a little scream when he bucked into her suddenly.

He slid his hands up her arms and used one hand to hold both hers above her head, as he slowly began to thrust in and out.

“To be honest,” he panted. “I prefer to show her.”

He kissed her soundly on the lips.

“Now, if you don’t mind shutting up, I’ll do just that, _ma’am_ ” he said.

Olivia smiled up at him all innocence, until he shifted just a little to hit her at just the angle that would bring a guttural moan from her. Then he smiled and continued his steady thrusts. She wrapped her legs around him and when she opened her eyes, they were a haze of pure desire.

It didn’t take him long to get close to release.

“Oh, god, please,” he said.

He let go of her hands and let her touch herself the way she liked when they got to this point. In mere seconds they were both shouting as their release hit them.

James rolled to his side but kept her tightly to his chest.

“God, woman, you will be the death of me,” he said.

“Maybe you need to bridle you lust,” she chuckled.

“Maybe you just need to shut the fuck up while we’re, uh, well, yeah,” James said.

That hadn’t come out the way he’d intended.

She laughed at him again.

“Do you really think Tanner has a crush on me?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “If he does, I don’t really know what I’ll do.”

“Oh, he’d never act on such a thing,” she assured him.

“He might never tell you,” James agreed. “But he might do something terrible to me if he ever thinks I’ve hurt you.”

Olivia reached down and pulled the blankets over them.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that right now,” she said.

She sounded tired, which she probably was. They’d been at this since Christmas Eve, when he'd snuck in. Though, now that she'd given him codes for her back door, it wasn't really sneaking, he thought. He smiled and held her tightly against him.

He was almost asleep when he recalled something Tanner had said.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking tomorrow off?” he asked.

She chuckled.

“It’s your Christmas present,” she told him. “Tanner spoiled it for me.”

“Hmmm, maybe next time he calls me during sex, you should answer the phone,” he said. “It will probably keep him from spoiling my presents.”

She chuckled.

“But imagine his shock,” she said.

“I doubt he’d ever recover,” James conceded.

“Then I’d have to find a new Chief of Staff, and break him in,” she said. “It might be years before I had another day off.”

James laughed then pressed his lips to hers.

“I don’t think I could handle that,” he said. “What with your stupid rule of ‘no sex in the office.’”

She poked him in his side rather harshly.

“Ouch!”

“Mind your manners, Bond,” she said. “Or it will be a rule of ‘no sex on Boxing Day.’”

James gave her a mock terrified look, before breaking into a knowing grin.

“You know you wouldn’t,” he said.

“I have a lot of work to do,” she said, coyly. “Beside, Tanner’s worried about me. Perhaps I should put in an appearance.”

She shifted out of his arms and threw off the blankets.

“No, you don’t,” he said, pulling her back to him.

He kissed her again and began to rut against her to encourage his slowly hardening cock.

“Oh, you are insatiable, Bond,” she said.

“Yes, I am,” he said. “And if you even think about leaving this flat to go anywhere, let alone the office, I will probably tie you to the bed.”

Olivia looked up at the headboard then back down at James. She gave him a smoldering look.

“That sounds positively intriguing,” she said. “I don’t think we’ve tried that.”

James swallowed thickly and his cock, which had needed encouragement a moment earlier, found that was all the encouragement it required.

“Oh, god, Olivia,” he said and buried his face in her neck, nipping at her ear and then sucking at her shoulder where he could leave a mark without anyone knowing.

He whimpered when he felt her hand slip between them to stroke him.

“Oh, this is a Happy Christmas indeed,” she said.


	11. On the Eleventh Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James tries to make Olivia's Christmas a little more pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this is actually an earlier chapter of that story I said I'd been working on in the first chapter of this series. Does that make sense? No. Hmmm. 
> 
> Well, go back and read chapter one after this. It might make you feel better anyway. ;)
> 
> I'll explain more at the end.

Olivia waited for the doors of the lift to close and for the mechanics to return her body guard to the ground floor before she called out James. She’d smelled him in the lift and worried her new security detail might have as well, but the man had said nothing. He probably didn’t know it was out of the ordinary.

Her agent slinked from around the corner. Obviously, he was aware of the new security procedures, though how, she could only imagine.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.

“I read the paper,” he slurred.

Drunk as well, she thought.

“You are on a mandatory leave, Bond,” she reminded him. “If I had need of you, I’d have Tanner contact you.”

“Not that part,” he said. “Not the front page.”

He sauntered toward her and apparently gauged when to stop by her body language.

“The obituaries,” he explained. “I read the obituary.”

She had been angry with Bond in the past, but now her body shook with rage. How dare he attempt to insinuate himself into her personal life.

“Get out,” she hissed and pointed at the lift.

She didn’t give a damn if the guard saw him.

Perhaps the man would do her a favor and shoot Bond.

“M, please,” he pleaded. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Olivia clenched her fists tightly, her nails nearly piercing the skin of her palms.

“Condolences could have easily been sent in a card,” she spat.

She wondered if she could possibly get a hit in with him in his obviously inebriated state.

“Not that kind of sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for being such an arse and you thinking you had to handle me personally and then you couldn’t be here.”

James hadn’t moved closer to her, nor to the lift doors. His eyes, while hazy with alcohol, were definitely contrite.

“Whatever are you talking about, Bond?” she asked, though unsure why she even wanted to continue speaking to him.

“You could have been with him at the end,” he said. “But you had to spend his last months chasing after me. I’m sorry.”

Olivia read Bond's face, surprised to see he was remorseful.

“Bond, it’s fine,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“Would you have been here if I’d followed your orders?” he asked.

“Which one?”

“Good point,” he answered, his eyes turning toward his feet.

If she wasn’t so angry with him, Olivia would have been inclined to laugh. James looked like a young man expecting punishment for some inane school antic.

“And even so,” she said. “Why did you have to come here? You could have waited until your return to work to speak with me. Are you hoping to get back to work sooner?”

He looked up sharply.

“No,” he exclaimed. “I just, well, it’s just.”

He took a deep breath.

“It’s Christmas,” he said. “And because of me, you couldn’t spend your husband’s last days with him and I.”

James trailed off and turned his eyes downward again. Olivia looked at him, trying to understand why this was so important to him.

“James,” she said. “If it hadn’t been you, there would have been some other crisis, I’m sure.”

He didn’t respond, and Olivia waited to see if her words would help him somehow.

“Did you know when we were in Russia?” he asked, quietly raising his eyes to hers again.

It was not in her nature to show anyone that they had affected her with their words so Olivia simply continued to stare at James, trying to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t make the situation worse than it already was. 

Why, she didn’t know. She should simply kick him out on his arse, but James usually responded positively to some sort of explanation.

“Yes,” she replied. “Tanner had called moments before I saw you.”

It was obvious from the look on James’ face that this was the wrong way to tell him.

“I’m so sorry,” he intoned again. “I was so cruel, I was so…god, what an arse I was.”

Olivia realized that if she didn’t do something, James was going to spiral. She had no idea why, beyond the alcohol, this was affecting him to this extent, but it was ridiculous. She didn’t get where she was in this business by being someone people would naturally show pity toward.

“James, you are obviously too drunk to go out without something on your stomach,” she said and headed toward the kitchen.

“Wait, M,” he called after her.

She heard him trying to catch up with her and he was nearly at her back when she pushed open the kitchen door.

Her eyes darted around the room in surprise.

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting you to see it while I was here,” he said.

The room was lit up with Christmas lights and there was a small tree in the center of the table.

“I just wanted you to have,” he stopped mid-sentence again. “I just wanted to try to make it up to you.”

Olivia closed her eyes. In a moment she felt a smile come to her face and then an actual laugh began to bubble up.

She shook her head, reached behind her and grabbed his arm, then pulled him to the table where she made him sit down.

He didn’t seem to know what to make of her behavior. Hopefully that would keep him quiet for a while.

Olivia opened the refrigerator door, intending to make him a sandwich or something easy.

Instead, she turned and glared at him. He looked sheepishly at her.

“Is that a turkey?”

He nodded.

“You just have to reheat it,” he said.

“How long have you been in my flat today, Bond?” she asked.

“Longer than you’d like to know,” he replied.

She pulled the turkey out of the refrigerator and unwrapped it. Then she proceeded to cut it up and reheat the slices in the oven. The entire works for a dinner was here.

“How did you ever expect me to finish all that food?” she asked as they waited for the potatoes to cook.

James only shrugged.

When the food was finally finished, she filled two plates then sat next to him at the table.

“Bond,” she said. “While this is all very nice, it’s utterly inappropriate.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m so…”

She cut him off.

“Please, don’t say those words again, tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

They ate, and M tried to come up with a better way to alleviate James from his unnecessary guilt.

“You know, Michael always understood the job,” she said.

James looked at her with genuine interest. Olivia found herself unsure how to continue. She’d never really had the opportunity to talk this way about her husband with anyone.

“I was married before,” she said.

He nodded.

“After my divorce, which was over my promotion to station head in Germany, I really never thought I’d have anyone again,” she continued. “And that was just fine with me because I’d spent twenty years being miserable daily.”

She smiled at the memory of when she met Michael. It wasn’t entirely top secret, but she didn’t want to share.

“Michael was so unlike my first husband,” she told James. “If I believed in such nonsense, I would say the man was made for me.”

James averted his eyes, and, for the first time, Olivia realized that this wasn’t just about Michael’s death.

“It does happen for real, James,” she assured him. “There were many times Michael could have, and maybe even should have, left me.”

The flash of a memory of a tall, handsome Spaniard played across her mind but she pushed it away as she always did.

“I can’t say that there is someone for everyone,” she said. “That’s the stuff of fairy tales, and you and I both know that sort of life is rarely found in our line of work.”

She felt herself growing tired. It had been a difficult month and a long day, and the turkey and sides were relaxing her quite nicely.

“I do, however, wish everyone could have what Michael and I had,” she said. “I wish you could.”

Olivia attributed her sudden desire to reach over and take James’ hand in hers to her exhaustion and the events of the past several months.

“I’m glad you were happy together,” James finally replied.

“We were,” she said. “We knew life was short and precarious, so we lived that way.”

He studied her for a moment

“No regrets?” he gave her a slight smile.

“No, we never had any,” she said.

They ate the rest of the meal in silence. Then James helped her with the dishes.

“You should probably stay in the guest room,” she told him. “I will leave for a few hours in the morning and you can make your escape then.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“But James,” she continued. “You cannot do this again. I told Tanner about the last time, and I will have to tell him about this.”

James looked nervous.

“I do trust you,” she said. “But this is more than inappropriate.”

He smiled at her.

“You trust me?”

Olivia rolled her eyes and shoved gently toward the bedroom.

She prepared for bed then crawled into Michael’s side and held his pillow tightly. She allowed herself to cry a little then she began to relax.

Tonight's situation forced her to recall her conversation with her husband after James’ first break-in earlier in the year. He had heard James, but had stayed in the room, waiting for her to call for him if needed.

She knew he’d not been happy about the situation, but he discussed it with her as calmly as he could.

“Is he like Tiago?” he’d finally asked.

At the time, Olivia wasn’t entirely sure. It seemed it could go either way. Though she knew he might not become as obsessed with her as her former agent had, James was still somewhat of a loose cannon. It wasn’t until she’d met up with him in the Bahamas, after he’d thwarted Demitrios’ plan, that she’d been certain he was safe.

Tonight, the smile on his face when she’d “let slip” that she trusted him, reminded her that she had been right.

“No, Michael,” she mumbled into his pillow. “He’s nothing like Tiago, at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the gist of the story, James learns that M's husband died while they were in Russia at the end of the film. He becomes distraught because he feels kept her away from him so he breaks into her flat to try to make up for it. In an earlier chapter, which will probably never see the light of day, M discusses James with her husband after the break-in during Casino Royale. Michael is concerned because of a years earlier altercation when Tiago had broken into their flat in Hong Kong. Which is also a chapter of the story that may never get posted. 
> 
> Anyway, if you have any other questions, please ask. I have this all in my head, so I hope I was able to make this part of the story clear enough without all the rest.


	12. On the Twelfth Day of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um, this is totally NSFW. You have been warned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last story if from my muse series. If you didn't see that coming, well, I don't know what to tell you. I'm kinda in love with my muses and their lives. :) If you haven't read my muse stories, you might want to read one or two to help make sense of this. There are a few references to them.

Olivia slipped carefully from the bed and tiptoed to the closet. Reaching in while keeping one eye on James’ slumbering form, she pulled out a garment bag as quietly as she could. She walked as quickly to the en suite then gently closed the door, twisting the handle as she did, hoping she could do it without making any noise.

She opened the garment bag and smiled. James was sure to like it. She pulled of her nightgown and stepped into the shower.

It had been a difficult several months for them. They’d woken to quite a shock earlier in the year.

_Olivia knocked on the door to the bath._

_“James, darling, are you alright?”_

_“No, I’m not,” he said._

_She tried the knob, but it was locked._

_“James, what’s wrong?” she asked._

_“Craig is a fucking liar,” he swore._

_“Have you been online again?” she asked. “I don’t know why you do that. It just upsets you.”_

_“No, I haven’t been looking at anything except the damn mirror,” he said._

_“James, for god’s sake, open the bloody door,” she ordered._

_It was several seconds before she heard him turn the lock and she eased open the door._

_Olivia tried not to react, she didn’t think James would appreciate it at all._

_He looked visibly different, as if he’d aged several years in one night._

_“You know, he could at least get a nose job,” James groused._

_Olivia rolled her eyes._

_“Such a typical man,” he said. “His nose is getting bigger. I think he must do something to his ears though, by now they should be jutting out like Dumbo’s.”_

_“Oh, for christsake, James,” Olivia admonished. “You look fine.”_

_“He promised he wasn’t going to make anymore,” James whined. “I mean, what the hell good are Bond girl names if they don’t mean anything anymore?"_

_Then he began to repeat the name ‘Madeleine SWANN,’ with that emphasis until Olivia threatened to wash his mouth out with soap._

_“James,” she said. “You look far younger than I ever will.”_

_“Yes, but you aged so damned gracefully,” he said. “You’re as beautiful as the day we met.”_

_He was still looking at himself in the mirror, obsessing over his nose it seemed._

_“James, do you honestly believe I won’t find you attractive?” she asked._

_He shrugged then shuffled, hunched over as an old man might, to the kitchen to start breakfast. Olivia rolled her eyes at him again as he complained they didn’t have enough high-fiber food because “an old man needs lots of fiber if he doesn’t want to spend his life in the loo.”_

Olivia chuckled at the memory as she finished her shower. She dried off then quickly dried her hair. She could hear James moving about the flat and she didn’t want to keep him waiting. She dressed then called out to him through the door to have him wait for her in the bed. When he answered that was, she opened the door, anticipating the delight in his eyes.

Instead, they both burst out laughing.

James was lying in the bed with in a sexy Santa’s elf costume, just green shorts, with jingle bells attached, a green elf cap, and a green bow-tie for good measure. Olivia thought her choice of the equally sexy Mrs. Claus costume quite fortuitous now.

James recovered first.

“Well, Mrs. Claus,” James said, his voice enticing. “We should make the most of Mr. Claus’ long post-Christmas Eve sleep, don’t you think?”

“Oh, that would be so naughty, little elf,” she said as she walked to the bed.

He reached out for her and she let him guide her onto the bed, so she was straddling him. She moaned at the feel of him, already hard for her.

James eyes were a haze of lust as they looked her costume over. He slid his hands up her bare hips, under the red mini-skirt, moaning when he discovered she wore nothing underneath.

“I’m afraid I left off the lovely belted stockings,” she told him. “They were nearly as tall as me.”

“There is positively no need to apologize,” he said in a rough voice. “You are absolutely, incredibly, fucking amazing.”

James slid his hands up her bare torso to the edge of the top that was tied at her breasts. He swallowed then licked his lips. His breaths were shallow as he slowly pulled the tie until it was loose enough for her breasts to push open the small piece of cloth and spill out.

The whimper that escaped James throat as it happened was both predictable and erotic to Olivia. James was enamored with her breasts. It was so bad that the few times he’d attempted to liven things up with her by having phone sex, he came as soon as her breasts became involved in the story they were telling each other. Yet, the fact that it never got old for him, that he never tired of her body, turned Olivia on more than anything.

He reached for them and she leaned over him so he could take one into his mouth. She loved to watch him when he did this. He lost himself completely in the pleasure he took from her body.

She rutted her hips against him as he stimulated her breasts. It wasn’t long before James had to ease her off of him. Between her breasts and her pressure against his hard cock, he looked ready to burst before he had a chance to get his little green shorts off.

Olivia sat back on his thighs and carefully moved his shorts down his hips, then slid them off over his feet. He still had the bow-tie, but had lost the hat when he’d been playing with her breasts. With his hard cock seeming to strain itself toward her, he looked quite the sight. Olivia began to lean forward and James’ eyes widened as he realized what she was about to do.

When she began to take him into her mouth, he released a guttural moan and his head fell back against the pillow. Shortly he was gasping her name, begging her, though he was never specific about what he meant by “please.”

Finally, Olivia crawled slowly up his body and reached over for the lube on the side table. She applied a good amount to his cock then broadcast her intention by wiping her wet fingers between her breasts.

James reaction to the knowledge that she was going to let him fuck her tits made Olivia throb from the heat between her legs.

“Oh, god, Olivia,” he moaned as she lowered herself onto him.

He took one breast in each hand then waited for her to move. Once she did, he began to knead her breasts gently with his hands, though by the time she was finished, she knew there would be bruises. After a minute, he began to move with her, whispering her name and praising her and her body.

His pace picked up and his grip tightened as he got closer. Shortly, his ability to form words ceased and all he could mouth were grunts and moaned and sighs. Olivia smiled as she watched him. Her pleasure might be delayed some, but it was worth it to see him completely lose himself.

He made a needy noise which Olivia translated to mean he was close.

“Come for me, love,” she whispered.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He pressed her breasts tightly against his cock.

“Fuck,” he yelled, then he lost all control, rutting against her until he was spent.

He was forced to release her breasts as his muscles lost their elasticity following his orgasm.

She moved off him and went to get a warm, wet cloth to clean them with. He moaned and said something completely incoherent as she rubbed the cloth over his body. When she finished, he tried to reach between her legs, but she pushed him gently away.

“Rest,” she told him. “I want you when you are ready to go inside me.”

He whimpered again.

“I have to give you some time, I know,” she said. “For a man of your age, it can be difficult.”

He opened his eyes and glared at her.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” he said.

“It’s too much fun to tease you about it,” she admitted with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes then quickly pushed her onto her back. He spread her legs and pushed the skirt up around her waist.

“There are things I can do to get there much faster,” he said.

Without another word he buried his face between her legs. In seconds, Olivia lost herself in the pleasure. In moments, she was grabbing his hair and holding him tightly against her as she came loudly.

He looked up at her and licked his lips before wiping his chin on her skirt.

"Hmmm, I guess I just needed a small feast to get me ready," he said moving to settle his cock between them.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Please, James," she whispered.

His kiss as he slowly entered her was sensual. Olivia relaxed and shifted her hips up slightly to allow him to penetrate her deeply. 

She could feel him watching her as he thrust slowly inside her, gauging her needs and if he was giving her enough pleasure. She wrapped her legs and arms around him and pulled her tightly against him, whispering words of encouragement.

It didn't take her long before she came. James continued to thrust into her. She knew he was hoping for another orgasm before he came. He'd accomplished it for the first time only a month earlier and now was almost insistent he draw two from her before he would allow himself release. She let him this time because he'd only just come.

She looked up at him as she drew closer to a second orgasm. His face told her that he knew nothing but the pleasure of being inside her.

She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him hard as she came a second time. Then she pushed him on the shoulder to get him to help flip them over so she could ride him. He grasped at her breasts again as he thrust up into her.

If she was tired, she didn't care. When James looked as thoroughly debauched as he did now, it was worth every ounce of extra effort.

Finally, he thrust up faster into her, pounding her until he came again.

Olivia rested atop him as he wrapped his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head, and stroked her back.

"I don't care how old I am," he said. "Making love to you will always be my favorite thing."

She chuckled.

"So it was a happy Christmas after all," she said.

"Yes, love," he replied. "Thank you."

He pulled the blanket over him and he finally shifted her off him, as she knew he would, to rest his head against her chest and listen to her heartbeat as they drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hope these stories kept you happy over the holidays. 
> 
> And, for your imagination, here is Olivia's costume: https://www.pinkqueen.com/Heart-Angel-Kite-Red-Santa-Costumes-g9414  
> James' costume: https://www.amazon.com/NDS-Wear-NDS-CST-36-Sexy-Costume/dp/B00FX9TJMI

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Christmas!


End file.
